In front of the liked flower, the source of joys
of our lives, the jealousy is always bad
companion. We enchant ourselves with its
beauty, with his you scented, sound to smile,
with its glance, but we test to control the
gestures, thoughts, them to him cautions. The
beauty of the clouds, l' enchantment of
butterflies, perfection of l' eagle, the grace of
stars, will formosura it waves, must itself with
their freedom. Us let us can capture l' bird,
but not the joy of the vol. We can store l'
water, never waves! The butterfly,
imprisoned, dies! That which likes the smile n'
do not require closed face. It was always
worth to point out the maxim:“which it like,
released! ”