When I was growing up my mother was always a friend to my siblings and me (in addition to being all the other things a mom is) and I was always grateful for that because I knew she was someone I could talk to and joke with and argue with and that nothing would ever harm that friendship.
Throughout the centuries man has considered himself beautiful. I rather suppose that man only believes in his own beauty out of pride that he is not really beautiful and he suspects this himself for why does he look on the face of his fellow-man with such scorn?