Garden Quotes - Page 39

• I want so to live that I work with my hands and my feeling and my brain. I want a garden, a small house, grass, animals, books, pictures, music. And out of this, the expression of this, I want to be writing (Though I may write about cabmen. That’s no matter.) But warm, eager, living life — to be rooted in life — to learn, to desire, to feel, to think, to act. This is what I want. And nothing less. That is what I must try for.

  Katherine Mansfield

  Live Life, Book, Writing

  Katherine Mansfield (2013). “Delphi Complete Works of Katherine Mansfield (Illustrated)”, p.1136, Delphi Classics

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• Within my heart a garden grows, wild with violets and fragrant rose. bright daffodils line the narrow path, my footsteps silent as i pass. sweet tulips nod their heads in rest; i kneel in prayer to seek gods best. for round my garden a fence stands firm to guard my heart so i can learn who should enter, and who should wait on the other side of my locked gate. i clasp the key around my neck and wonder if the time is yet. if i unlocked the gate today, would you come in? or run away?

  Robin Jones Gunn

  Running, Sweet, Prayer

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• And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who only loved trim lawns. And the imbecile carried the princess into slavery.

  Antoine de Saint-Exupery

  Princess, Heart, Slavery

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• Cemeteries in Bohemia are like gardens. The graves are covered with grass and colourful flowers. Modest tombstones are lost in the greenery. When the sun goes down, the cemetery sparkles with tiny candles... no matter how brutal life becomes, peace always reigns in the cemetery. Even in wartime, even in Hitler's time, even in Stalin's time.

  Milan Kundera

  Tombstone, Flower, Reign

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• I encourage him to be in his garden as often as possible. Then he has to walk to Rosings nearly every day. ... I admit I encourage him in that also.

  Jane Austen

  Walks

  "Fictional character: Charlotte Lucas". "Pride and Prejudice/ Episode #1.3", www.imdb.com. 1995.

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• Her heart felt as if it were breaking in her breast, bleeding and bleeding, young and fierce. From grief over the warm and ardent love which she had lost and still secretly mourned; from anguished joy over the pale, luminous love which drew her to the farthest boundaries of life on this earth. Through the great darkness that would come, she saw the gleam of another, gentler sun, and she sensed the fragrance of the herbs in the garden at world's end.

  Sigrid Undset

  Grief, Heart, Joy

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• At teenage parties he was always wandering into the garden, sitting on a bench in the dark . . . staring up at the constellations and pondering all those big questions about the existence of God and the nature of evil and the mystery of death, questions which seemed more important than anything else in the would until a few years passed and some real questions had been dumped into your lap, like how to earn a living, and why people fell in and out of love, and how long you could carry on smoking and then give up without getting lung cancer.

  Mark Haddon

  Love, Teenage, Giving Up

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• She cried, "Laura," up the garden, "Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men.

  Christina Rossetti

  Kissing, Men, Missing

  Christina Rossetti (2013). “Goblin Market - Illustrated by Arthur Rackham”, p.26, Read Books Ltd

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• The certainty that she would find what it was she sought just slipped away, until one night she knew there was nothing, no one waiting for her. That no matter how far she walked, how carefully she searched, how much she wanted to find the person she was looking for, she was alone" - The Forgotten Garden

  Kate Morton

  Night, Waiting, Matter

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• ... imaginary gardens with real toads in them ... ... if you demand on one hand, the raw material of poetry in all its rawness and that which is on the other hand genuine, then you are interested in poetry.

  Marianne Moore

  Real, Hands, Raw Materials

  Marianne Moore (2016). “Observations: Poems”, p.27, Farrar, Straus and Giroux

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• Unless you are here: this garden refuses to exist. Pink dragonflies fall from the air and become scorpions scratching blood out of rocks. The rainbows that dangle upon this mist: shatter. Like the smile of a child separated from his mother’s milk for the very first time. --from poem Blood and Blossoms

  Aberjhani

  Mother, Children, Fall

  Aberjhani (2000). “I Made My Boy Out of Poetry”, p.9, Bright Skylark Book Products

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• If, in our world, there is any chance of becoming the person you haven't yet become...will I know how to seize that chance, turn my life into a garden that will be completely different from my forebears'?

  Muriel Barbery

  Our World, Different, Becoming

  "The Elegance of the Hedgehog". Book by Muriel Barbery, August 31, 2006.

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• I came to realize that one single human being, comprehended in his depth, who gives generously from the treasures of his heart, bestows on us more riches than Caesar or Alexander could ever conquer. Here is our kingdom, the best of monarchies, the best republic. Here is our garden, our happiness.

  Ernst Junger

  Heart, Giving, Depth

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• There was nothing particularly wrong with them; they were just the ordinary garden variety of human garbage.

  Robert Penn Warren

  Ordinary, Garbage, Humans

  Robert Penn Warren (2006). “All the King's Men”, p.458, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• In Egypt, I loved the perfume of the lotus. A flower would bloom in the pool at dawn, filling the entire garden with a blue musk so powerful it seemed that even the fish and ducks would swoon. By night, the flower might wither but the perfume lasted. Fainter and fainter, but never quite gone. Even many days later, the lotus remained in the garden. Months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again, momentary but undeniable.

  Anita Diament

  Powerful, Flower, Night

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• Amory took to writing poetry on spring afternoons, in the gardens of the big estates near Princeton, while swans made effective atmosphere in the artificial pools, and slow clouds sailed harmoniously above the willow. May came too soon, and suddenly unable to bear walls, he wandered the campus at all hours through starlight and rain.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Wall, Spring, Rain

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2015). “The Complete Works of F. Scott Fitzgerald: Novels, Short Stories, Poetry, Articles, Letters, Plays & Screenplays: From the author of The Great Gatsby, The Side of Paradise, Tender Is the Night, The Beautiful and Damned, The Love of the Last Tycoon, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and many other notable works”, p.148, e-artnow

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• But I have to say this in defense of humankind: In no matter what era in history, including the Garden of Eden, everybody just got here. And, except for the Garden of Eden, there were already all these games going on that could make you act crazy, even if you weren't crazy to begin with. Some of the crazymaking games going on today are love and hate, liberalism and conservatism, automobiles and credit cards, golf, and girls' basketball.

  Kurt Vonnegut

  Basketball, Girl, Hate

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• I reminded myself: when a book lies unopened it might contain anything in the world, anything imaginable. It therefore, in that pregnant moment before opening, contains everything. Every possibility, both perfect and putrid. Surely such mysteries are the most enticing things You grant us in this mortal mere -- the fruit in the garden, too, was like this. Unknown, and therefore infinite. Eve and her mate swallowed eternity, every possible thing, and made the world between them.

  Catherynne M. Valente

  Lying, Book, Perfect

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• With you, I am Eve. And you are my beautiful Adam. Let's run away, find our garden, live there together, happy. Naked.

  Ellen Hopkins

  Beautiful, Running, Together

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• Wherever Harry went inside the tiny cottage or its garden, he could hear the constant ebb and flow of the sea, like the breathing of some great, slumbering creature.

  J. K. Rowling

  Sea, Ebb And Flow, Breathing

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• Excellently observed", answered Candide; "but let us cultivate our garden.

  Voltaire

  Candide

  Voltaire (2015). “Candide”, p.123, Booklassic

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• And I don't think I want to meet this super-reaper." Nash stuffed his hands in his front pockets. "The garden variety's weird enough.

  Rachel Vincent

  Thinking, Hands, Want

  Rachel Vincent (2011). “Soul Screamers Volume One: My Soul to Lose\My Soul to Take\My Soul to Save”, p.341, Harlequin

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• Soon it began to drizzle for the second time that night. The drops grew heavier and became visible in the headlights of the cars. It was said by some of the police on the scene that God was crying for the girl in the garden. To others, it was only rain.

  George Pelecanos

  Girl, Rain, Night

  "The night gardener". Book by George Pelecanos, www.theguardian.com. August 8, 2006.

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• Dear me! We Tooks and Brandybucks, we can't live long on the heights.' 'No,' said Merry. 'I can't. Not yet, at any rate. But at least, Pippin, we can now see them, and honour them. It is best to love first what you are fitted to love, I suppose: you must start somewhere and have some roots, and the soil of the Shire is deep. Still there are things deeper and higher; and not a gaffer could tend his garden in what he calls peace but for them, whether he knows about them or not.

  J. R. R. Tolkien

  Roots, Long, Height

  J.R.R. Tolkien (2012). “The Lord of the Rings: One Volume”, p.589, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

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• Lord Jesus,' Christy whispered, 'I want You to hold the key. I want You to decide what should happen in my heart's garden. I want You to let in or send out anything or anybody You want. Especially with guys. I don't want to ever unlock that gate again. I want you to open it only when the right man comes along. Take the key, Lord. Take all my keys. I'll wait for you.

  Robin Jones Gunn

  Jesus, Heart, Men

  Robin Jones Gunn (2009). “Christy Miller Collection”, p.465, Multnomah

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