You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will,

But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.

Thomas Moore (1779-1852): Farewell! But whenever you welcome the Hour.

I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude,

And with forc'd fingers rude

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

John Milton (1608-1674): Lycidas. Line 3.