de como é possível amar a futilidade

"But beaty, real beauty ends where an intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or sll forehead, or something horrid. Look at the succesful men in any of the learned professions. How perfectly hideous they are! Except, of course, in the Church. But then in the Church they don't think."

Gawd, do I love Oscar Wilde!