What is beauty? In the eye of the beholder, but everyone finds beauty in something. For me, the World is beautiful. Language and rhythyms are beautiful. Love is beautiful. Many, many things are beautiful, and we are surrounded with beautiful things every day and may not realize it. A lovely sunset, the sound of wind whistling through trees. For me, beauty is almost one with simplicity. Things that are beautiful are easy, because for me most of the time they are third person. Such as a beautiful woman or nature. Even if the woman is unattainable, there is still beauty there. And it is still a moving quality.
There is also emotional beauty. Like when you talk to someone and you say to yourself, "This person really knows what he/she is talking about." And of course at the opposite pole is emotional ugliness. Self-centered, egocentric people who think the World revolves around them, so there is no need to be considerate of others.
Another beauty is language, through poetry. Poetry has a special rhythym that is not accepted by the masses. For them, poetry is something for "queers and faggots". But they don't understand that most music poetry, sung to a tune. The thing with written poetry is that you have to put actual personal thought into it. Which is something that most of America has trouble doing, having a mind of their own I mean.
I'm not sure people understand how powerful beauty is. It moves me daily. I try to find something beautiful every day. Even if it is only staring at the beauty of a cloud formation or stopping to recite some poetry. I think most everyone's lives is simply a search for beauty and what one considers beauty. Whether they accept it or not.
Give beauty all her right
She's not to one form tied
Each shape yields fair delight
Where her perfections bide
Helen, I grant, might pleasing be
And Rosamond was a sweet as she
Some the quick eye commend
Some swelling lips and red
Pale looks have many friends
Their sacred sweetness bred
Meadows have flowers that pleasures move
Though roses are the flowers of love
Free beauty is not bound
To one unmoved clime
She visits every ground
And favors every time
But such love with mind compare
My soverign is sweet and fair
Thomas Campion