She felt dirty, ugly and tired. She felt like a marshmallow heading into a house fire armed with chocolate and graham crackers.

She left feeling dirty, and on the bus ride home she knew that what her uncles told her had come true: she had been attracted to an object that was beautiful, and she had become spellbound, and then its shape had changed, and what had appeared beautiful had turned ugly.

Probably that you're going to be eaten by a giant marshmallow or something.

Oh man! Why make yourself so ugly with the dirty outfit of pride?

Protesting does no good. It does no good for anything. It's just ugly.

I've been with some of the most quote-unquote beautiful women in the world. But they're so ugly on the inside.