Baruch Spinoza Quotes

The first question I ask myself when something doesn't seem to be beautiful is why do I think it's not beautiful. And very shortly you discover that there is no reason.

Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

I believe that what we call beautiful is generally a by-product.

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.

Beauty is altogether in the eye of the beholder.

Spin is 'something is beautiful because we say it's beautiful.'

Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.

Beauty is in the eye of the beer holder.

Beauty is that little something that fills the whole world, and is contained neither in a single straight nose, a long eyelash, nor a blue mountain. Some see it in a leg of mutton, others in a compound fracture; and to expect others to accept one's own definition of it is as absurd as to expect all humanity to use the same toilet-brush.

I'm not that obsessed with making representations of ugliness. Everything I've seen is beautiful.

Like our attitude to love, truth and goodness, we seem to be confident about knowing what beauty is - certain, even dogmatic - until we think hard about the idea, whereupon all confidence flies away.

Nothing's beautiful from every point of view.

Reality only reveals itself when it is illuminated by a ray of poetry.

Beauty is only about relationships. Nothing is beautiful on its own.

Refinement creates beauty everywhere. It is the grossness of the spectator that discovers anything like grossness in the object.

Artistic vision is having the clarity to fall in love with what you see.

Venus de Milo. To a child she is ugly. When a mind adjusts to thinking of her as a completeness, even though, by physiologic standards, incomplete, she is beautiful.

What is commonly called ugliness in nature can in art become full of beauty.

My first love is art, and I see a lot of things in an artistic way.

Art is good, bad, boring, ugly, useful to us or not.

The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity... and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.

There is certainly no absolute standard of beauty. That precisely is what makes its pursuit so interesting.

Beauty is as relative as light and dark. Thus, there exists no beautiful woman, none at all, because you are never certain that a still far more beautiful woman will not appear and completely shame the supposed beauty of the first.

A picture is the expression of an impression. If the beautiful were not in us, how would we ever recognize it?