Roses," she thought sardonically, "All trash, m’dear.

She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her...

The Scarcity of Flowers in the society made guys settle for weeds and grasses.... Trust me i'll rather import a Rose than being contended with thorns.

Sidney's never makes a mistake, he said to himself. We know that, too. What else can we depend on?

But,’ she continued, ‘the goddess is too strong. Her will too absolute. The poison that is indifference …and I well know that taste, L’oric. Ask any orphan, no matter how old they are now, and they will tell you the same. We all sucked at that same bitter tit.

A good essay must have this permanent quality about it; it must draw its curtain round us, but it must be a curtain that shuts us in not out.