"These hapless lovers were probably not always mere myths, and the legends which traced their split blood in the purple bloom of the violet, the scarlet stain of the anemone, or the crimson flush of the rose were no idle poetic emblems of youth and beauty fleeting as the summer flowers." (Frazer 8)

This line is beautiful but so sad. It speaks of youth in love but cut down for being in such a state. There is so much jealousy that is so evident in every account that speaks of gods. Whether it be Greek gods, Roman gods, or the Lord himself, thier anger and envy are the controlling factor of every story gone awry. If a human dies, it is the will of a god and a testament of their jealousy when faced with the will of man. They greedily guard their power and strike when they feel threatened or undermined, which is the case in regard to the poor humans who dare to return the love of gods and godesses, who, incidentally, are formed in such a way that inspires nothing less.