Loveliest of lovely things are they On earth that soonest pass away. The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyond the sculptured flower.

The air was fragrant with a thousand trodden aromatic herbs, with fields of lavender, and with the brightest roses blushing in tufts all over the meadows. . . .

The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

And we wept that one so lovely should have a life so brief;

Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger

So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.