"The delicate droop of the petals standing out in relief, is like the eyelid of a child."

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The loveliest, sweetest flower that bloomed in paradise, and the first that died, has rarely blossomed since on mortal soil. It is so frail, so delicate, a thing, it is gone if it but look upon itself; and she who ventures to esteem it hers proves by that single thought she has it not.

— Elizabeth Fry