Beauty may be truth. Keats would certainly have it that way. But I think beauty is you and beauty is me. And together we could be. (This is not the point though.)

Beauty is a speck of color as Monet would have it. Beauty is a flash of light as lightning would have it. Beauty is the individual as democracy would have it.

I still hold that you are beauty. As am I. And together we could be. (This is not the point though.)

As is seen on the faces of the Mona Lisa and L' Incconue de la Seine, in the eyes of Bette Davis and Elizabeth Taylor, in the frame of Angelina Jolie and Ingre' s Odalisque.

Leonardo saw beauty in the human form. Belle saw it in the Beast. Narcissus saw it in the mirror. I see it in you. And in me. I see it in us-together. (It might be the point.)

Transcendentally, Thoreau insisted that Beauty is found in Nature. Physically, DeLisa Stiles found it in plastic surgery. Rationally, Descartes found it in thought. Truthfully, I found it in you. And in me. Specifically, in us-together. (You are now the point.)

You may be tired of this letter, as I can well imagine. Repetitive utterances going on and on about beauty and artists and other ideas. If you’ve read this letter as an essay on Beauty then I encourage you to read it again. If you’ve read this document again and have found yourself back to this line, I hope you’ve found the subject of discussion.

Beauty is the artists expression and life on Earth. Beauty is the physical and the ideal. Beauty is love. Beauty is truth. Beauty is almost indefinitely woman. Beauty is always you.

In closing I’ll let you know, that the truth is I love you. So, I write you this letter to let you know how. There are too many ways to count, so I’ve done my best to describe. And together, if you’ll have me, we could be beautiful. That is- full of Beauty.

Write back soon.