You're beautiful, but you're empty. one could not die for you. to be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you. 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 sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I killed caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.