Meanness inherits a set of silverware and keeps it in the bank. Economy uses it only on important occasions, for fear of loss. Thrift sets the table with it every night for pure pleasure, but counts the butter spreaders before they are put away.

In a successful marriage, there is no such thing as one's way. There is only the way of both, only the bumpy, dusty, difficult, but always mutual path.

Borrow my umbrellas, my clothes, my money, and I will likely not think of them again. But borrow my books and I will be on your track like a bloodhound until they are returned.

Gardening has compensations out of all proportion to its goals. It is creation in the pure sense.

People are no longer sinful, they are only immature or underprivileged or frightened or, more particularly, sick.

Time is the thief you cannot banish.

The trouble with gardening is that is does not remain an avocation. It becomes an obsession.