It Felt Love
Did the rose
Ever open its heart
And give to this world
It felt the encouragement of light
We all remain
The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat’ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.
Art is the unceasing effort to compete with the beauty of flowers – and never succeeding.
— Gian Carlo Menotti
Beauty is truth’s smile when she beholds her own face in a perfect mirror. — Rabindranath Tagore