Ah, snug lie those that slumber Beneath Conviction's roof. Their floors are sturdy lumber, Their windows weatherproof. But I sleep cold forever And cold sleep all my kind, For I was born to shiver In the draft from an open mind.

When blithe to argument I come, Though armed with facts, and merry, May Providence protect me from The fool as adversary, Whose mind to him a kingdom is Where reason lacks dominion, Who calls conviction prejudice And prejudice opinion.

There are books that one needs maturity to enjoy just as there are books an adult can come on too late to savor.

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

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

Behind every myth lies a truth; beyond every legend is reality, as radiant (sometimes as chilling) as the story itself.

History must always be taken with a grain of salt. It is, after all, not a science but an art.