Doe

“Language shows clearly that memory is not an instrument for exploring the past but its theater. It is the medium of past experience, as the ground is the medium in which dead cities lie interred. He who seeks to approach his own buried past must conduct himself like a man digging. This confers the tone and bearing of genuine reminiscences. He must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter, to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil. For the matter itself is only a deposit, a stratum, which yields only to the most meticulous examination what constitutes the real treasure hidden within the earth: the images, severed from earlier associations, that stand—like precious fragments or torsos in a collector’s gallery—in the prosaic rooms of our later understanding.”
― Walter Benjamin, Reflections: Essays, Aphorisms, Autobiographical Writings

“Roses are for love. Not silly sweet-hearts' love but the love that makes you and keeps you whole, love that gets you through the worst your life'll give you and that pours out of you when you're given the best instead.”
― Robin McKinley, Rose Daughter

“وَلَقَد ذَكَرتُكِ والرِّماحُ نَواهِلٌ - مِنّي وبِيضُ الهِندِ تَقطُرُ مِن دَمي
فَوَدَدتُ تَقبيلَ السُيوفِ لأَنَّها - لَمَعَت كَبارِقِ ثَغرِكِ المُتَبَسِّمِ”
― عَنتَرة بِن شَدّاد

“Feeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip into the visionary end of the dark-sight. The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. The roses said: You do not have to choose. ”
― Robin McKinley, Sunshine