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There is nothing more pure than a rose. A rose is as simple as life. It buds, spreading out and shining like a red dew drop shimmering in the morning sun, then it will wilt, losing petals one by one, like someone weeping red tears, it will soon die, and a new rose will sprout, making the same pattern go on. Bud, grow, wilt, and die. It is the circle of life for the pure rose.