You know a flower with a name very much like that? […] But it was of no use — Hyacinthus was fast sinking, his head drooping like a bruised flower, and like a flower he faded away. […] It did not seem like an image; the rosy sunset gave the marble a soft tinge that made it look like real flesh. […] His hair gleamed like the sun’s bright rays, and his eyes shone like stars. […] Sometimes they combed out their yellow hair, which glistened like gold or like the sunlight on the clear, sparkling water.