The study of beauty is a duel in which the artist cries out in terror before being vanquished.
The beautiful is always bizarre.
There are women who inspire you with the desire to conquer them and to take your pleasure of them; but this one fills you only with the desire to die slowly beneath her gaze.
Strangeness is a necessary ingredient in beauty.
I sit in the sky like a sphinx misunderstood; My heart of snow is wed to the whiteness of swans; I hate the movement that displaces the rigid lines, With lips untaught neither tears nor laughter do I know.
An artist is an artist only because of his exquisite sense of beauty, a sense which shows him intoxicating pleasures, but which at the same time implies and contains an equally exquisite sense of all deformities and all disproportion.
Beauty is the sole ambition, the exclusive goal of Taste.
Even in the centuries which appear to us to be the most monstrous and foolish, the immortal appetite for beauty has always found satisfaction.
I can barely conceive of a type of beauty in which there is no Melancholy.
It would be difficult for me not to conclude that the most perfect type of masculine beauty is Satan, as portrayed by Milton.
The pleasure we derive from the representation of the present is due, not only to the beauty it can be clothed in, but also to its essential quality of being the present.
There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness.
Whether you come from heaven or hell, what does it matter, O Beauty!