I could not rouse the man; so I said we would take him to her, and see—to the bride who was the fairest thing in the earth to him, once—roses, pearls, and dew made flesh, for him; a wonder-work, the master-work of nature: with eyes like no other eyes, and voice like no other voice, and a freshness, and lithe young grace, and beauty, that belonged properly to the creatures of dreams—as he thought—and to no other. The sight of her would set his stagnant blood leaping; the sight of her—

“A Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” by Mark Twain

The perception of our beloved’s beauty has remained unchanged for as long as humans have walked the face of the earth. Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Romantic love changes our brain chemistry, and even the dullest stimuli turn into a rainbow of lights—“ The fairest thing in the earth to him, once—roses, pearls, and dew made flesh … the sight of her would set his stagnant blood leaping ….” Wouldn’t it be wonderful if this mirage remained with us forever? But that is seldom the case. When the blindfold drops from our eyes and reality sets in, only will a few of us be able to sort out our beloved’s qualities amidst plenty of imperfections.  We should love them because of their perfections and imperfections.