Beauty (n.) is by no means goodness. it is frankly amazing just how complete this delusion is.
Beauty (n.) is not itself the thing that endears, rather it's love that makes us see beauty.
Beauty (n.) is ruined by picking it — much like with a flower, to pluck and take it from the garden is to set in motion its ruin, and thus also to set in motion one's forgetting of the beauty for which one had picked it in the first place.
Beauty (n.) is, due only to a strange illusion, supposed to be goodness.
Beauty (n.) supplies us with a particular pleasure.
Beauty (n.) is wrongheadedly understood as goodness. A handsome woman talks nonsense, you listen and hear not nonsense but cleverness. She says and does horrid things, and you see only charm. And if a handsome woman does not say stupid or horrid things, you at once persuade yourself that she is wonderfully clever and moral.