The sky is the color of fire. The cliff is burning into an impossible expanse, a surrender. And the sea—the sea is a pool of tears shed at the frightening abundance of so much beauty and sacrifice. The sea is extinguishing itself into the sky.
Beauty makes you feel infinitely. There’s something about it that makes you want to put your head down. How is this even allowed? It feels wrong. Like the woman who noticed you looking at her.
If a thing is beautiful and no one is there to see it, is it still beautiful? Or is that what death feels like?
Beauty is the abyss of ambivalence—shaking and still at the same time. You are scared to look too deep for the fear of destroying beauty. You are frightened to look too hard for the fear of breaking down.
Beauty can never become a habit. You can never get used to it. To walk past beauty without looking is the sigh of regret.
Be overwhelmed by beauty. To see beauty in the eye is prayer.
A beautiful woman walks past you, and you put your head down? What a peculiarly human sickness. To go on missing God.
Beauty is the lust of life, the love of living.
Light is the universal cosmetic.
Nothing up close is ugly.
Look into people’s faces.
Become a part of creation.
To live fully is to never put your head down. Let beauty shred your heart. Let the shiver run down your soul. Let the frightening expanse bring you a glimpse of deathlessness. For once, be unsure of yourself. For a brief moment, buckle under existence.
Meditations 
The fluttering, flowing dance of lover’s hands in sign language is unexpectedly beautiful to me. I feel voyeuristic if I look, and not looking is not an option.
Well done SN.
Thanks for reading, Sir. Beauty and voyeurism have been the couple who fight loudly at parties. We are their kids.