Story Of A Rose

 

Beauty Is In The Eye of The Beholder

There is something about roses that make it hard for me to throw them away even when they're dead.

There is still beauty...........the colors change and as they dry they take on a new, but just as pretty life.

Juliet:
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a Capulet.
Romeo:
[Aside] Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?
Juliet:
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
Romeo:
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I never will be Romeo.


My love of roses after what some may call their prime, could have something to do with my appreciation of the structure of things.  

Have a lovely day and take time to notice beauty in unexpected places. 

Ciao for now,