Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand.
Interpretation
True beauty comes from authenticity and love rather than physical appearance.
This quote emphasizes the idea that true authenticity and being 'Real' is achieved through the experiences of love and vulnerability, which may leave visible marks on one's physical form. It suggests that genuine beauty stems from emotional depth and understanding, rather than superficial standards imposed by those who may not comprehend the value of authenticity.
In practice
Sharing this quote during a graduation speech to encourage graduates to embrace their true selves.
Real isn't how you are made. It's a thing that happens to you. Sometimes it hurts, but when you are Real you don't mind being hurt. It doesn't happen all at once. You become. Once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand. Once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always.
Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real." "Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit. "Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.
He didn't mind how he looked to other people, because the nursery magic had made him Real, and when you are Real shabbiness doesn't matter.
When you are Real, shabbiness doesn't matter.
When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.
Seeing the similarity to oneself, one should not use violence or have it used.
The minister who keeps back hell from his people in his sermons is neither a faithful nor a charitable man.
I refuse to accept the idea that the “isness” of man's present nature makes him morally incapable of reaching up for the eternal “oughtness” that forever confronts him.
Even when the experts all agree, they may well be mistaken.
I wonder if I've been changed in the night. Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!
History may be servitude. History may be freedom. See, now they vanish. The faces and places, with the self which, as it could, loved them, to become renewed, transfigured, in another pattern.
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