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

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

Few would dispute with the rose her claim to be the queen of flowers, for where is her equal to be found? Is she not God’s masterpiece?

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

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

The trees change their voices in autumn as well as their shapes. No longer do they whisper to one another in muffled tones as they did in summer; they talk in a different leaf-language now. The wind moves through the boughs like fingers drawn across the strings of a harp filling the air with the harsh dry sound of sapless leaves. It is the main theme of the autumn music, this murmuring counterpoint of dead leaves.

Life is like a field, where we must gather what we grow, weed or wheat... this is the law, we reap the crop we sow.