I find that a real gardener is not a man who cultivates flowers; he is a man who cultivates the soil. He is a creature who digs himself into the earth and leaves the sight of what is on it to us gaping good-for-nothings. He lives buried in the ground. He builds his monument in a heap of compost. If he came into the Garden of Eden, he would sniff excitedly and say: "Good Lord, what humus!"

Great God of the Ants, thou hast granted victory to thy servants. I appoint thee honorary Colonel.

Man will never be enslaved by machinery if the man tending the machine be paid enough.

Let no one think that real gardening is a bucolic and meditative occupation. It is an insatiable passion, like everything else to which a man gives his heart.

Be these people either Conservatives or Socialists, Yellows or Reds, the most important thing is - and that is the point I want to stress - that all of them are right in the plain and moral sense of the word.

There came into the world an unlimited abundance of everything people need. But people need everything except unlimited abundance.

All the year round there is spring, all through life is youth; there is always something which may flower.