When, indeed, men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, not a quality, as is supposed, but an effect - they refer, in short, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul - not of intellect, or of heart.
Beauty crowds me till I die.
Yet beauty, though injurious, hath strange power, After offence returning, to regain Love once possess'd.
For converse among men, beautiful persons have less need of the mind's commending qualities. Beauty in itself is such a silent orator, that it is ever pleading for respect and liking, and by the eyes of others is ever sending, to their hearts for love.
Beauty alters the grain of reality.
It was the sort of beauty you feel so deeply it becomes contagious and somehow makes you feel beautiful too.
If Brad Pitt walked down the street, cars would crash into each other. I'm really lucky not to have to deal with that.
Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.
