It isn't that I don't like sweet disorder, but it has to be judiciously arranged.

how poor and disheartening a thing is experience compared with hope!

April, the angel of the months, the young love of the year.

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

There's no beginning to the farmer's year, / Only recurrent patterns on a scroll / Unwinding...

But you, oh gardener, poet that you be / Though unaware, now use your seeds like words / And make them lilt with color nicely flung.

all the small squalors of the body, known only to oneself, insignificant in youth, easily dismissed, in old age became dominant and entered into fulfilment of the tyranny they had always threatened.