Physical beauty isn’t so impressive to me.
Literature isn’t a moral beauty contest. Its power arises from the authority and audacity with which the impersonation is pulled off the belief it inspires is what counts.
Everyone can identify with a fragrant garden, with beauty of sunset, with the quiet of nature, with a warm and cozy cottage.
I remember reminding myself that beauty is an opinion, not a fact. And it has always made me feel better.