“If a girl thinks she isn't beautiful, I'm here to prove her wrong.”

“She was a nice little girl, simple and true, and tremendously frightened of sex. I told her it was beautiful. I wanted to prove this to her. She let me prove it, but I was too impatient and proved nothing.”

“But this girl isn't just beautiful. She's perfect in a way that's unreal”

“I just want her to know that she's still beautiful, after all these years, and that I'm here - always,”

“Here's the thing: I am not beautiful. I'm pretty. I'll allow that much. Pretty. But I'm not the girl boys long for.”

“No, listen. I've got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll think you're sweet, but she won't believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding." Bast gave a grudging shrug. "And sometimes that's enough."His eyes brightened. "But there's a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you..." Bast gestured excitedly. "Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn't seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen.”