Quotes About Farm

You talk of the mines of Australia, They've wealth in red gold, without doubt; But, ah! there is gold on the farm, boys— If only you'll shovel it out. (Chorus:) "Don't be in a hurry to go! Don't be in a hurry to go! Better risk the old farm awhile longer, Don't be in a hurry to go!

In despair, he left that farm and came to Bone Gap when it was a huge expanse of empty fields, drawn here by the grass and the bees and the strange sensation that this was a magical place, that the bones of the world were little looser here, double-jointed, twisting back on themselves, leaving spaces one could slip into and hide.

Hugh] winced as I squealed the tyres, but after all, it wasn't his motorcar. Holmes did more than wince before we were out of Oxford, but I didn't hit anybody, and only brushed the farm cart slightly. It wasn't his automobile either, and what do men know about driving?

Dear Kai, Come back. Come back for me. I didn't mean it. I've changed my mind. I can't bear this, Kai. I can't bear this farm, this life, this world without you.

A farmer once told me one of the greatest luxuries of his life was to wake up early only to go back to sleep again.

There are thousands and thousands of deer here. Soon it will be hunting season. "At least most people who hunt up here hunt for food, not sport," she says. I watch them bound away as we turn down her dirt road. "Why don't they farm deer?" I wonder. "Is it because they are too pretty?" She shakes her head. "It's because they panic when penned.

The public should know that the liability issues here have yet to be resolved, or even raised. If you're a farmer and you're growing a genetically engineering food crop, those genes are going to flow to the other farm.

Milkfed Mary, Queen of the Dairy

He died in his bed at his farm on February 9, 1940, at 3:10 p.m., with Martha and Bill Jr. at his side, his life work—his Old South—anything but finished.

he bought his farm. The grueling work that had so worn on him during his boyhood now became for him both a soul-saving diversion and a romantic harking back to America's past.

Flanagan and Allen: Bang, bang, bang, bang goes the farmer's gun, Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run, run.

I like chicken a lot because chicken is generous - that is to say, it's obedient. It will do whatever you tell it to do.

Federal policy tells us to fill 50 percent of our plates with fruits and vegetables. At the same time, federal farm subsidies focus on financing the production of corn, soybeans, wheat, rice, sorghum, dairy and livestock.

We had about 400 acres, and I'm legitimately the true farm kid. We raised wheat, corn, soy beans. We hauled hay, cattle, hogs, horses.

I'm actually no longer a strict vegan. I don't hang out in the cheese section - I don't even eat cheese. I don't drink milk. But every once in a while I'll have an egg. I'm going to eat eggs that come out of my next-door neighbor's farm, that's just the way it is.

Mama was a natural cook. At harvest time, she would whip up a noontime dinner for the men in the field: fried chicken with milk gravy, ham, mashed potatoes, lima beans, field peas, corn, slaw, sliced tomatoes, fried apples, biscuits, and peach pie.

In 1964, at the age of 39, Flannery O'Connor died from complications of lupus. She had lived with this autoimmune disease for 14 years, primarily confined to her mother's farm, Andalusia, in Milledgeville, Ga.

When we were on the farm, we were isolated, not just by geography but by the primitive living conditions: no electricity, no running water and, of course, no computer, no phone.

I was raised on a farm in Kansas where we lived next door to my Grandma Dew, and I was her shadow. We went everywhere together - to the bank, the doctor, the Early Bird Garden Club, and to an endless procession of Church meetings.

I produce schnapps on my farm but I'm not fond of drinking it.

You get lots of people, especially where I live, who go in to a butcher and insist on organic beef - even when the butcher has better-tasting stuff from a farm that's been producing wonderful meat for 100 years but hasn't jumped through the hoops to get organic certification.

To make extra money, my parents would sell eggs and chickens. I was very little. I remember a chicken's head being chopped off with the chicken running around. I wasn't sure if my imagination was running away with me or if it really happened. It really happened.

A lot of the values I have come from the farm and from my parents, of grafting and of giving, and of always striving to be the best you can be. It's about teamwork.

I have a happy temperament: a bit like 'Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm.'