His brow was wide, lofty, open, gently rounded.

The arch of the eyebrow was full of delicacy; the nose of masculine beauty; the habitual expression of the eyes kindly and sympathetic, but as he grew heated in talk, they sparkled like fire; the curves of the mouth bespoke an interesting mixture of finesse, grace, and geniality.

His bearing was nonchalant enough, but there was naturally in the carriage of his head, especially when he talked with action, much dignity, energy, and nobleness.

It seemed as if enthusiasm were the natural condition for his voice, for his spirit, for every feature.

He was only truly Diderot when his thoughts had transported him beyond himself.