September is the month of maturity; the heaped basket and the garnered sheaf. It is the month of climax and completion. September! I never tire of turning it over and over in my mind. It has warmth, depth and colour. It glows like old amber.

New words are always being born and old ones fading away.

Happy is the person who can keep a quiet heart, in the chaos and tumult of this modern world.

I thought I had finished with romantic adventures, but half-way through life and well past the age for losing one's heart, I was suddenly swept off my feet by a new love, a passionate, tyrannical, all-absorbing emotion: the love of a garden.

While it is February one can taste the full joys of anticipation. Spring stands at the gate with her finger on the latch.

Every noble achievement is a dream before it is a reality just as the oak is an acorn before it is a tree.

in February there is everything to hope for and nothing to regret.