Flower Garden Quotes - Page 4

• Almost every person, from childhood, has been touched by the untamed beauty of wildflowers.

  Lady Bird Johnson

  Garden, Childhood, Untamed

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• There is something of the same pleasure in noticing the hues of the stars that there is in looking at a flower garden in autumn.

  Maria Mitchell

  Stars, Flower, Autumn

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• The ideal is the flower-garden of the mind, and very apt to run to weeds unless carefully tended.

  Margaret Oliphant

  Running, Weed, Flower

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• Fair, rich confusion is all the aim of an old-fashioned flower garden, and the greater the confusion, the richer. You want to come upon mignonnette in unexpected places, and to find sprays of heliotrope in close consultation with your roses, and geraniums sporting their uniforms like gay recruits off duty.

  Anna Bartlett Warner

  Flower, Gay, Garden

  Anna Bartlett Warner (1872). “Gardening by Myself”, p.64

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• Gardening is one of the rewards of middle age, when one is ready for an impersonal passion, a passion that demands patience, acute awareness of a world outside oneself, and the power to keep on growing through all the times of drought, through the cold snows, towards those moments of pure joy when all failures are forgotten and the plum tree flowers.

  May Sarton

  Flower, Passion, Snow

  May Sarton (2014). “Plant Dreaming Deep: A Journal”, p.77, Open Road Media

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• The tints of autumn...a mighty flower garden blossoming under the spell of the enchanter, frost.

  John Greenleaf Whittier

  Flower, Fall, Autumn

  John Greenleaf Whittier (2012). “Tales and Sketches, Complete Volume V., the Works of Whittier: Tales and Sketches”, p.336, tredition

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• I am your moon and your moonlight too I am your flower garden and your water too I have come all this way, eager for you Without shoes or shawl I want you to laugh To kill all your worries To love you To nourish you.

  Rumi

  Flower, Love You, Garden

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• The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window; the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around; the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.

  Charles Dickens

  Sweet, Morning, Nature

  Charles Dickens (1838). “The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club”, p.52

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