“But (Peresphone) was like, the goddess of flowers." Grover looked offended. "Springtime.”

“You look like a goddess when you come, did you know that?""I'm not a goddess.""Not a goddess. Not an angel. Not a devil. Are you a ghost? Because you can't be real.""I'm real.”

“The morning air was like a new dress. That made her feel the apron tied around her waist. She untied it and flung it on a low bush beside the road and walked on, picking flowers and making a bouquet… From now on until death she was going to have flower dust and springtime sprinkled over everything.”

“Beautiful she is, sir! Lovely! Sometimes like a great tree in flower, sometimes like a white daffadowndilly, small and slender like. Hard as di’monds, soft as moonlight. Warm as sunlight, cold as frost in the stars. Proud and far-off as a snow-mountain, and as merry as any lass I ever saw with daisies in her hair in springtime.”

“The sky, at sunset, looked like a carnivorous flower.”

“Look like the innocent flower,But be the serpent under it.”