It is only to the gardener that time is a friend, giving each year more than he steals.
Beverley NicholsA 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.
Beverley NicholsThe Oldfields of the future are beyond hearing; they are shut up in the factories and the workshops, leading a rackety and mechanical existence, to the damage of their bodies and the peril of their souls, for the sake of an extra pound or so a week, which they promptly spend on mental or physical narcotics.
Beverley NicholsTo dig one's own spade into one's own earth! Has life anything better to offer than this?
Beverley Nichols