Neither a garden nor a gardener can be made in one year, nor in one generation even.

Nature, when undisturbed, is never monotonous, you know. Even when using green, the most frequent color on her palette, she throws in contrasting tints by way of expression, and you will seldom see two sides of a leaf of the same hue, and the leaf stem frequently gives a good dash of bronze or purple.

even as human vitality is at its lowest ebb in the early morning, so it is with plant life in the early spring.

Surely there is no greater garden for human-nature study than the flotsam and jetsam of the hospital.

Imagine how terrifying it would be if we had to decide the beginnings of things for ourselves: as to what race we should belong, what sex, and all that, instead of placidly coming out of unconsciousness to find it all arranged!

what is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty.

it is really astonishing how few colors are inharmonious when they are profusely massed and have green for a background.