The world has a kind of withered flowers, that is a smile; it regardless of season, regardless of north and south, as long as the local population will be open. The more pure soul, the more its beauty.

If the setbacks are those prickly thorns, that smile is that virtuous lily.
If it fails is that steep cliff, that smile is the sun Road was flat.
If the depression is that bare the acacia trees, that smile is the holly that stand with head held high.