A single rose can be my garden... a single friend, my world.
Money, which represents the prose of life, and is hardly spoken of in parlors without apology, is, in its effects and laws, as beautiful as roses.
The horn of plenty poured its fruits on the Western world in the 1950s. Like a volcano World War II had brought death and destruction, but it left behind such enrichment of the soil that a new civilization rose out of it in tropic opulence.
Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense.