Eloquence Is The Poetry Of Prose.

Maidens Hearts Are Always Soft: Would That Men's Were Truer!

Loveliest Of Lovely Things Are They, On Earth, That Soonest Pass Away. The Rose That Lives Its Little Hour Is Prized Beyond The Sculptured Flower.

The Groves Were God's First Temples.

The Air Was Fragrant With A Thousand Trodden Aromatic Herbs, With Fields Of Lavender, And With The Brightest Roses Blushing In Tufts All Over The Meadows.

Flowers Spring Up Unsown And Die Ungathered.