“Roses are so wedded to the human soul that the very sight or scent of a rose recalls the body of one’s mother. No child remembers the scent of her birth, but mothers experience the rose-laden breeze that envelops the world at that moment to welcome every child.
“The memory of those roses is eventually lost–to mother and child alike. It is like a doorway that opens briefly onto a wondrous, multi-dimensional, multi-tiered tower that is the sum of all that is. But no sooner has that doorway opened than it is shut again. The memory of it passes like the scent of flowers carried off by the wind.
“All of this is contained in roses. And roses are contained in their scent. That scent recalls the memory of the portal through which you have entered into this world, and through which you will depart from it.
“But make no mistake. This is a portal like no other. For it is a door with only one side, and that is the side of Life. What you call Death is nothing but this. There are no endings, no final departures. Only Life upon Life upon Life.”
BELOW: North Rose Window, Notre Dame de Paris