“She was like a fire, a burning bush, and the candle flames about her head were silver leaves; or again, the glass was green water, and she a mermaid, slung with pearls, a siren in a cave, singing so that oarsmen leant from their boats and fell down, down to embrace her; so dark, so bright, so hard, so soft, was she, so astonishingly seductive that it was a thousand pities that there was no one there to put it in plain English, and say outright “Damn it, Madam, you are loveliness incarnate,” which was the truth.”

—Virginia Woolf, Orlando

Years ago, when I was rotten with virtue,
      I believed loveliness
was just a face, a flower,

no underside to it, no dark complication.

—Stephen Dunn, opening lines to “Loveliness” from Between Angels (W.W. Norton & Co., 1989)

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