As taught to the young Fred Sanforides by his mother, a Been Grossedout witch:
I must not see ugly. Ugly is the taste-killer. Ugly is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face away from your ugly. I will permit it to pass over there and away from me. And when it has gone past I will turn a squinting eye to see its path. Where the ugly has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
Gods below, you ugly.