Whatever one loves most is beautiful.
To me the Muses truly gave / An envied and a happy lot: / E'en when I lie within the grave, / I cannot, shall not, be forgot.
The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars
May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve.
Although only breath, words which I command are immortal.
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.