I think of the trees and how simply they let go, let fall the riches of a season, how without grief (it seems) they can let go and go deep into their roots for renewal and sleep.... Imitate the trees. Learn to lose in order to recover, and remember that nothing stays the same for long, not even pain, psychic pain. Sit it out. Let it all pass. Let it go.

gardening is a madness, a folly that does not go away with age. Quite the contrary.

The more articulate one is, the more dangerous words become.

In the garden the door is always open into the "holy" - growth, birth, death. Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.

Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.

life is always bringing unexpected gifts.

Miracles cannot be explained, that is their miraculous nature.