He Is Dead Already Who Doth Not

The Glory Of Gardening: Hands In The Dirt, Head In The Sun, Heart With Nature. To Nurture A Garden Is To Feed Not Just On The Body, But The Soul. Share The Botanical Bliss Of Gardeners Through The Ages, Who Have Cultivated Philosophies To Apply To Their Own - And Our Own - Lives: Show Me Your Garden And I Shall Tell You What You Are.

If Nature Built By Rule And Square, Than Man What Wiser Would She Be? What Wins Us Is Her Careless Care, And Sweet Unpunctuality.

Life Seems Like A Haunted Wood, Where We Tremble And Crouch And Cry.

There Is No Gardening Without Humility

Never Did Form More Fairy Thread The Dance Than She Who Scours The Hills To Find It Flowers; Never Did Sweeter Lips Chained Ears Entrance Than Hers That Move, True To Its Striking Hours; No Hands So White E'er Decked The Warrior's Lance, As Those Which Tend Its Lamp As Darkness Lours; And Never Since Dear Christ Expired For Man, Had Holy Shrine So Fair A Sacristan.