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— Johann Wolfgang von Goethe"The rose is wont with pride to swell, and ever seeks to rise."
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I feel as if I had opened a book and found roses of yesterday sweet and fragrant, between its leaves.
— Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Ah what avails the sceptred race, Ah what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
— Walter Savage Landor
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