This form of beauty can only be possessed by one woman - her walk, her smile, her hair… everything is in perfect harmony. Her voice is as if angels were orchestrating a symphony. The way she speaks is graceful - calming any storm she encounters. Her heart is a blessing to others, as she loves others as Christ loves her. This divine beauty is cherished and loved by many, but her man loves her the most.
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)