" Many, many years ago in
a sad, faraway land, there was an enormous mountain made of
rough, black stone. At sunset, on top of that mountain, a magic
rose blossomed every night that made whoever plucked it
immortal. But no one dared go near it because its thorns were
full of poison. Men talked amongst themselves about their fear
of death, and pain, but never about the promise of eternal
life. And every day, the rose wilted, unable to bequeath its
gift to anyone… forgotten and lost at the top of that
cold, dark mountain, forever alone, until the end of time.
”
- Ofelia (Pans Labyrinth)
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