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‘O laggard, busy with the mere shape of things.
Leave off the pleasures of seductive form.
The love of the face of the Rose has merely driven thorns into your heart.
It is your master.
However beautiful the Rose, the beauty vanishes in a few days...
If the Rose's smile awakens your desire, it is only to hold you ceaselessly in sorrow...
leave the Rose and the redness.’
— Attar, Parliament of the Birds
