" Past the old brick walls and lovely close-clipped hedges separating the different parts of the Italian gardens, the young people strolled to the rose arbors, scenes of a thousand thousand blossoms in the earlier part of the year. Retracing their steps back past the geranium beds, they walked on over the lush green grass to a sundial. Simultaneously and haltingly, as they made out the hewn words, they began to read aloud the quaint inscription cut from the gray stone:
"Hours Fly, Flowers Die...
New Days, New Ways, Love Stays."

The spoken words, deep with meaning, seemed to ring reverberatingly for a moment over the old timepiece which had seen so many hours fly, and so many flowers die.

Still facing the old sundial together, Allen slipped an arm about Laura and drew her close. "Stay Laura," he said suddenly. "Don't go. Stay and make a home with me . . . as they did. After all,--it's best."

For a brief moment Laura rested her check against Allen's arm, felt the touch of something big and beyond her. In that fraction of a minute she had the sensation of being swept on to some new existence, in which she was greater than herself, larger than humanity. The feeling of a great contentment came upon her. In that brief space of time she seemed to have slipped into her place in the scheme of things. It was as though she were the center of all existence, the reason for a Great Plan. "

― Bess Streeter Aldrich , A White Bird Flying