"True beauty of dress consists in its simplicity . . . What do these devotees of fashion gain? Only the satisfaction of being admired, like a butterfly."

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Among the myrtles the mantids moved, lightly, carefully, swaying slightly, the quintessence of evil. They were lank and green, with chinless faces and monstrous globular eyes, frosty gold, with an expression of intense, predatory madness in them. The crooked arms, with their fringes of sharp teeth, would be raised in mock supplication to the insect world, so humble, so fervent, trembling slightly when a butterfly flew too close.

— Gerald Durrell