Sometimes, when you see a delicate flower, its petals blowing in a breeze, it's best to preserve the moment instead of taking it with you. Sometimes, if you touch the flower in a wrong way, it may be too brittle to hold, and will crumble to ashes at your hooves. As we all know, there is no worse a crime than killing a flower, with no wronging against its name.

Lyra, while reading the newspaper, in her usual spot in the park, fails not to notice a beautiful yellow mare across the path.

Sunny never knew about her father. Twilight had never told her. Then, for the last moments of breath for Twilight, the whole story is told, for good or for bad.