“I love to smell flowers in the dark," she said. "You get hold of their soul then.”

“Those are pretty," She commented, leaning down to smell the flowers. "They're from Violette," I said, watching for her reaction. "They look like weeds," she replied, straightening.”

“When you smell a flower, where is the smell before you smell the flower? Think about that one.”

“The dusky and faintly sweet smell of her perfume came to Therese again, a smell suggestive of dark green silk, that was hers alone, like the smell of a special flower.”

“As soon as I turned the key I saw it hanging, the color of fire and sunset. the colour of flamboyant flowers. ‘If you are buried under a flamboyant tree, ‘ I said, ‘your soul is lifted up when it flowers. Everyone wants that.’She shook her head but she did not move or touch me.”

“Her lips twitched when she quietly read.But if you fall I will be there To pick the pieces of your shattered soul“Shattered,” she murmured to herself. “Shattered soul? Isn’t that too serious? No, I think he will get it.” She continued to write. And put them back togetherI will solder them into a wholeWith the heat of my love I will stay. I will hold the time still.”