Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem.
It is not beauty that endears, it’s love that makes us see beauty.[Не по хорошỳ мил, а по милỳ хорош.]
What you do, the way you think, makes you beautiful.
Beauty; the death, then, of a beautiful woman is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
Well, I am pretty. There’s no denying that. Almost all spiders are rather nice-looking. I’m not as flashy as some, but I’ll do.
There’s more beauty in the truth even if it is dreadful beauty.
The beauty of the world which is so soon to perish, has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder.
The beautiful word begets the beautiful deed.
One is apt to overestimate beauty when it is rare.
Everyone wanted to be rich and beautiful, but the truly rich and beautiful had to pretend they were just the same as everyone else.
Beauty is everywhere a welcome guest.
