Beauty (n.) is, in its most noble form, something that does not suddenly transport us, but which slowly infiltrates us. It bears away with us almost without noticing and then encountering again in dreams.
Beauty (n.) is the crystallization of the life and power to which everything is a means.
Beauty (n.) is a species bias — it is not a word, or even a concept. Man postulates himself as the standard of perfection; a species has no alternative to saying yea to itself in this way.
Beauty (n.) is power become gracious and descending into the visible.
Beauty (n.) is unattainable by all ardent wills.
Beauty (n.) is attained with pains, even the beauty of a race or a family: the final result of the accumulated work of generations.
Beauty (n.) is the measure of suffering: 'How much must these people have suffered in order to be able to become so beautiful!'
Beauty (n.) is the gentle evening-weariness that settles on nature's face when it learns it has played the game of life and becoming with too high stakes.
Beauty (n.) of the noblest kind is a slow arrow: it infiltrates us unnoticed, returns in dreams, and only after long lying modestly in the heart takes total possession of us.
Beauty (n.) is for the few: the monstrous is older and more abundant than the beautiful, and most men need it more — it contains a stronger narcotic.
Beauty (n.) requires renouncing prettiness: disdain to please ninety-nine times so as to ravish, the hundredth time, one whose soul's portal is great enough to admit greatness.
Beauty (n.) in art is the imitation of happiness — so our realism reveals that we find happiness not in reality but in knowledge of reality.
Beauty (n.) has a bigger realm than morality allows: the evil man may be enjoyed like a wild landscape with bold lineaments; we sought beauty only in the morally good, and found so little of it.
Beauty (n.) holds struggle and inequality and war for supremacy too, as vault and arch bend and break each other in a temple.
Beauty (n.) is hardest of all for the hero: it cannot be wrested by any violent willing — it means standing with muscles relaxed and will unharnessed.
Beauty (n.) is what I call it when power becomes gracious and descends into view.
Beauty (n.) is where I must will with my entire will — where I want to love and perish so that an image does not remain merely an image.
Beauty (n.) could not exist until the ugly had first said to itself, 'I am ugly'.
Beauty (n.) appears only with a certain obtuseness of vision, a will to simplicity: the more coarsely the world is conceived, the more beautiful and significant it seems; look deeper and meaninglessness approaches.
Beauty (n.) is the highest sign of power — power over opposites, and without tension: violence no longer needed, everything obeying easily and pleasantly.