Henry Valentine Miller (December 26, 1891 – June 7, 1980) was an American novelist. He broke with existing literary forms and developed a new type of semi-autobiographical novel that blended character study, social criticism, philosophical reflection, stream of consciousness, explicit language, sex, surrealist free association, and mysticism. His most characteristic...
Now and then, at the sulfur baths, I meet a perfect specimen of health and vitality who was given up by the doctors years ago. They all tell the same story; they forgot their ailments, they ignored them, they found something to do — something of a serviceable nature — which made them forget themselves.
And here, after all that, is what I have come to believe about beauty: Laughter is beautiful. Kindness is beautiful. Cellulite is beautiful. Softness and plumpness and roundness are beautiful. It's more important to be interesting, to be vivid, and to be adventurous than to sit pretty for pictures. The soft tummy of a woman is a miracle of nature. Beauty comes from tenderness. Beauty comes from variety, from specificity, from the fact that no person in the world looks exactly like anyone else. Beauty comes from the tragedy that each person's life is destined to be lost to time.
Low self-esteem is the belief that we are not good or worthy enough. It's a self-perception. You can be wealthy, beautiful, or well-liked by others and still don't feel good about yourself. The way other people perceive you doesn't affect your self-esteem. It's how you perceive yourself that matters.
There is a field where all wonderful perfections of microscope and telescope fail. All exquisite niceties of weights and measures as well as that which is behind them, the keen and driving power of the mind. No facts, however indubitably detected, no effort of reason, however magnificently maintained, can prove that Bach's music is beautiful.