John Keats said that a thing of beauty is a joy forever. Not that I'm questioning Keats, whose poem Endymion has been around for two hundred years, but beauty is not really known for just bringing joy. Prettiness brings joy. Prettiness brings a smile on your face. But prettiness is the opposite of beauty.
Beauty is vague and puzzling. It haunts and lingers. Beauty surprises. It makes you question the world. It inspires you to action. It stirs up half a dozen different emotions. It turns nos into yeses. It can push you to your limits if it wants to. You can't take your eyes off it when it's there, yet you can't seem to properly describe it when it's gone.
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