gardening is a madness, a folly that does not go away with age. Quite the contrary.
It is the privilege of those who fear love to murder those who do not fear it!
When we admit our vulnerability, we include others. If we deny it, we shut them out.
How unnatural the imposed view, imposed by a puritanical ethos, that passionate love belongs only to the young, that people are dead from the neck down by the time they are forty, and that any deep feeling, any passion after that age, is either ludicrous or revolting!
Death does frame a person and somehow it is the good that stays.
in the very long run any success devours - and perhaps also corrupts.