Success and failure, triumph and disaster. That is the rhythm of life in the garden.

gardening is something more than a pastime; it is a religion.

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.

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

Winter sunshine is a fairy wand touching everything with a strange magic. It is like the smile of a friend in time of sorrow.

In looking back we remember only the triumphant consummations of each season. Failures and frustrations are forgotten; garden-memories are as perfect as garden-hopes.

It has been said that the only reason for leaving England is to give yourself the pleasure of coming back to it.