‘One day,’ said the Persian poet Saadi, ‘I saw a rose bush surrounded by a tuft of grass. “What!” I cried, “Does that vile plant dare to place itself in the company of roses?” I was about to tear the grass away when it meekly addressed me, saying, “Spare me! I am not the rose, it is true; but from my perfume any one can know at least that I have lived with roses.”’
