gina

you are beautiful, but you are empty," "One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you-the rose that belong to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for that I have killed the caterpillars; because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, o boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.