Lists only spell out the things that can be taken away from us by moths and rust and thieves. If something is valuable, don't put it in a list. Don't even say the words.
In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars.
This is how moths speak to each other. They tell their love across the fields by scent. There is no mouth, the wrong words are impossible, either a mate is there or he is not, and if so the pair will find each other in the dark.
Moths, and all sorts of ugly creatures, hover about a lighted candle. Can the candle help it?