We love those we are happy with. We do. For how else can we know we love them, or how else define loving?

We love those we are happy with. We do. For how else can we know we love them, or how else define loving?

A collection of plants is not a landscape, any more than a list of choice words is a poem. The merit is in the design, not the material it is expressed in, and the best designs, like the best poems, make ordinary material significant by its arrangement.

leisure is an attitude of mind, not simply remission of work.

One of the many possible divisions of human beings is into those who make and those who use.

children are not undeveloped versions of adult people: they are a different race of beings: they are children.

The sorrows of children are profound and unsuspected.