I was walking through a garden last summer and this rose-bud caught my eye. Its beauty was breathtaking. I could only stop and stare.
Have you ever really looked at a rose—looked at it for its own beauty, for “itself?” Some may tear it apart to analyze it, see all its elements and name them, but it would kill the rose. Wordsworth said, “Our meddling intellect mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:—We murder to dissect.”
People are like roses, only more beautiful. Don’t pick them apart. Don’t try to classify, compare, analyze or catalogue them. Just enjoy them. Take the time to sit down and listen to them. Love them for “themselves.” That’s the only way to know them.
Oh, I should warn you, roses, like people, have thorns, but don’t let that stop you from loving them.