What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have never been discovered.
And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden, You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.
Nature does not complete things. She is chaotic. Man must finish, and he does so by making a garden and building a wall.
To own a bit of ground, to scratch it with a hoe, to plant seeds, and watch the renewal of life - this is the commonest delight of the race, the most satisfactory thing a man can do.
Yes, in the poor man's garden grow Far more than herbs and flowers - Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, And Joy for weary hours.
Fit for kings, formal gardens afford an earthly Elysium and the odd impression that we mere men might actually control nature for a time.
It is impossible for any culture to be sound and healthy without a proper respect and proper regard for the soil.
Consult the genius of the place, that paints as you plant, and as you work.
I think I may be a better person for having given serious time and thought and effort to gardening.
Violets smell like burnt sugar cubes that have been dipped in lemon and velvet.
More and more, I feel the need for a house and a garden.
It is a greater act of faith to plant a bulb than to plant a tree.
A person cannot love a plant after he has pruned it, then he has either done a poor job or is devoid of emotion.
The unmulched garden looks to me like some naked thing which for one reason or another would be better off with a few clothes on.
Who would have thought it possible that a tiny flower could preoccupy a person so completely that there simply wasn't room for any other thought.
God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures.
Trees and plants always look like the people they live with, somehow.
The wilderness is near as well as dear to every man. Even the oldest villages are indebted to the border of wild wood which surrounds them, more than to the gardens of men. There is something indescribably inspiriting and beautiful in the aspect of the forest skirting and occasionally jutting into the midst of new towns, which, like the sand-heaps of fresh fox-burrows, have sprung up in their midst. The very uprightness of the pines and maples asserts the ancient rectitude and vigor of nature. Our lives need the relief of such a background, where the pine flourishes and the jay still screams.
The true object of all human life is play. Earth is a task garden; heaven is a playground.
But though an old man, I am but a young gardener.
Kind hearts are the garden, kind thoughts are the roots, kind words are the blossoms, kind deeds are the fruit.
Bloom where you are planted!
In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous.
Gardening is not a rational act.
Unemployment is capitalism's way of getting you to plant a garden.
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