Nem o tempo muda…
"You’re lovely, but you’re empty," he went on.
"One couldn’t die for you.
Of course an ordinary passerby would think my rose looked just like you.
" But my rose, all on her own, is more important than you altogether, since she’s the one I’ve watered.
Since she’s the one I put under glass.
Since she’s the one I sheltered behind a screen.
Since she’s the one for whom I killed the caterpillars (except for two or three for butterflies).
Since she’s the one I listened to when she complained, or when she boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing at all.
Since she’s my rose."