The Navaho word hozho, translated into English as "beauty," also means harmony, wholeness, goodness. One story that suggests the dynamic way that beauty comes alive between us concerns a contemporary Navajo weaver. A man ordered a rug of an especially complex pattern on two separate occasions from the same weaver. Both rugs came out perfectly and the weaver remarked to her brother that there must have been something special about the owner. It was understood that the outcome of the rugs was dependent not on the weaver's skill and ability but upon the hozho in the owner's life. The hozho of his life evoked the beauty in the rugs. In the Navaho world view, beauty exists not simply in the object, or in the artist who made the object; it is expressed in relationships.

Too late I loved you, O Beauty so ancient yet ever new! Too late I loved you! And, behold, you were within me, and I out of myself, and there I searched for you.

Straight is the line of duty;
Curved is the line of beauty;
Follow the straight line,
thou shalt see
The curved line ever follow thee.

Who walks with beauty has no need of fear;
The sun and moon and stars keep pace . . .
Invisible hands restore the ruined year,
And time, itself, grows beautifully dim.

In all ranks of life the human heart yearns for the beautiful; and the beautiful things that God makes are God's gift to all alike.

The surfaces of the world are aesthetically uneven. You come around a bend in the road and the world suddenly falls open. When we come upon beautiful things . . . they act like small tears in the surface of the world that pull us through to some vaster space.

But of beauty, I repeat again that we saw her there shining in company with the celestial forms; and coming to earth, we find her here, too, shining in clearness through the clearest aperture of sense.

We ourselves possess Beauty when
we are true to our own being; ugliness
is in going to another order;
knowing ourselves, we are beautiful;
in self-ignorance, we are ugly.

Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God's handwriting — a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.

. . . Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find her
unless she herself be your way and your guide?
And how shall you speak of her
except she be the weaver of your speech . . .
beauty is life when life unveils her holy face.
But you are life and you are the veil.
Beauty is eternity gazing at itself in a mirror.
But you are eternity and you are the mirror.