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!"

Socialism is good when it comes to wages, but it tells me nothing when it comes to other questions in life that are more private and painful, for which I must seek answers elsewhere.

Wherever on this planet ideals of personal freedom and dignity apply, there you will find the cultural inheritance of England.

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

If dogs could talk, perhaps we would find it as hard to get along with them as we do with people.

If one must fight or create, it is necessary that this be preceded by the broadest possible knowledge.

Nothing is stranger to man than his own image.