What would be ugly in a garden constitutes beauty in a mountain.

The beautiful has but one type, the ugly has a thousand.

Style is the shape the ideal takes, rhythm, its movement.

To love beauty is to see light.

Great perils have this beauty, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.

The ideal and the beautiful are identical; the ideal corresponds to the idea, and beauty to form; hence idea and substance are cognate.