“I have no right to beauty. I had been condemned to masculine ugliness.”
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It is curious how, from time immemorial, man seems to have associated the idea of evil with beauty, shrunk from it with a sort of ghostly fear, while, at the same time drawn to it by force of its hypnotic attraction.
I love my beauty. It's not my fault.
I feel fortunate that I'm not a beauty. I'm not a classic beauty. I feel it is harder for girls who are like that. There are fewer parts.
Art requires philosophy, just as philosophy requires art. Otherwise, what would become of beauty?