Well, I love geraniums, and anybody who does not love geraniums must obviously be a depraved and loathsome person.

It is only to the gardener that time is a friend, giving each year more than he steals.

A garden without cats, it will be generally agreed, can scarcely deserve to be called a garden at all...much of the magic of the heather beds would vanish if, as we bent over them, there was no chance that we might hear a faint rustle among the blossoms, and find ourselves staring into a pair of sleepy green eyes.

A garden is a place for shaping a little world of your own according to your heart's desire.

Let us be honest: most of us rather like our cats to have a streak of wickedness. I should not feel quite easy in the company of any cat that walked around the house with a saintly expression.

Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.

A gardener is never shut out from his garden, wherever he may be. Its comfort never fails. Though the city may close about him, and the grime and soot descend upon him, he can still wander in his garden, does he but close his eyes.