I suppose the pleasure of country life lies really in the eternally renewed evidences of the determination to live.

I loved you when love was Spring, and May, Loved you when summer deepened into June, and now when autumn yellows all the leaves.

There is always something else to do. A gardener should have nine times as many lives as a cat.

I worshipped dead men for their strength, Forgetting I was strong.

I miss you even more than I could have believed; and I was prepared to miss you a good deal.

My garden all is overblown with roses,/ My spirit all is overblown with rhyme.

Flowers really do intoxicate me.