The leaves fall, the wind blows, and the farm country slowly changes from the summer cottons into its winter woods.

The quality of life, which in the ardour of spring was personal and sexual, becomes social in midsummer.

It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.

A garden is the mirror of a mind. It is a place of life, a mystery of green moving to the pulse of the year, and pressing on and pausing the whole to its own inherent rhythms.

If gardeners will forget a little the phrase, "watering the plants" and think of watering as a matter of "watering the earth" under the plants, keeping up its moisture content and gauging its need, the garden will get on very well.

The three great elemental sounds in nature are the sound of rain, the sound of wind in a primeval wood, and the sound of outer ocean on a beach.

Wolves are not our brothers; they are not our subordinates, either. They are another nation, caught up just like us in the complex web of time and life.