It never seems to occur to some people that like beauty a sense of humor may sometimes be fatal.
It seems that if one is working from the point of view of getting beauty in one's equations and if one has really a sound insight one is on a sure line of progress.
It is curious how from time immemorial man seems to have associated the idea of evil with beauty shrunk from it with a sort of ghostly fear while at the same time drawn to it by force of its hypnotic attraction.
The truth of the matter is beauty is a specific thing rare and fleeting. Some of us have it in our teens 20s and 30s and then lose it most of us have it not at all. And that's perfectly okay. But lying to yourself that you have it when you don't seems to me simple-minded at best and psychotic at worst.
The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement the greatest source of visual beauty the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living.
It seems like the chaos of this world is accelerating but so is the beauty in the consciousness of more and more people.
The beautiful seems right by force of beauty and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
Old hands soil it seems whatever they caress but they too have their beauty when they are joined in prayer. Young hands were made for caresses and the sheathing of love. It is a pity to make them join too soon.
When everything else physical and mental seems to diminish the appreciation of beauty is on the increase.
Whenever somebody says they need an angle for their story I always fear that they've got an idea and they want me to fit into it or they want me to come up with an idea myself or I'm supposed to be more revealing than I've been and to me it just sounds like something I don't want to do.