Real charm is dynamic, an enveloping spell which mysteriously enslaves the senses. It is an inner light, fed on reservoirs of benevolence which well up like a thermal spring. It is unconscious, often nothing but the wish to please, and cannot be turned on and off at will.
42. You recognize charm by the feeling you get in its presence. You know who has it. But can you get it, too？ Probably, you can't, because it's a quickness of spirit, an originality of touch you have to be born with. Or it's something that grows naturally out of another quality, like the simple desire to make people happy. Certainly, charm is not a question of learning tricks, like wrinkling your nose, or having a laugh in your voice, or gaily tossing your hair out of your dancing eyes. 43. Such signs, to the nervous, are ominous warnings which may well send him streaking for cover. On the other hand, there is an antenna, a built-in awareness of others, which most people have, and which care can nourish.
But in a study of charm, what else does one look for？ Apart from the ability to listen-rarest of all human virtues and most difficult to sustain without vagueness--apart from warmth, sensitivity, and the power to please, what else is there visible？ 44. A generosity, I suppose, which makes no demands, a transaction which strikes no bargains which doesn't hold itself back till youv'e filled up a test-card making it clear that you're worth the trouble. Charm can't withhold, but spends itself willingly on young and old alike, on the poor, the ugly, the dim, the boring, on the last fat man in the corner. 45. It reveals also in a sense of ease, in casual but perfect manners, and often in a physical grace which springs less from an accident of youth than from a confident serenity of mind. Any person with this is more than just a popular fellow, he is also a social healer.
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