Quotes About Gardens

Indeed, this is perhaps the most important question ever to confront culture in the broadest sense – for let us make no mistake: the climate crisis is also a crisis of culture, and thus of the imagination. Culture generates desires – for vehicles and appliances, for certain kinds of gardens and dwellings – that are among the principal drivers of the carbon economy.

Cve?e, istina je, ne hrani ?oveka, — govorila je ona — ali ono unosi radost u život. Ako biste od lepih mirisnih bašta napravili vrtove, nema sumnje da biste mi dali da jedem, ali biste u isti mah ubijali volju za život.

Gertrude Jekyll, like Monet, was a painter with poor eyesight, and their gardens — his at Giverny in the Seine valley, hers in Surrey — had resemblances that may have sprung from this condition. Both loved plants that foamed and frothed over walls and pergolas, spread in tides beneath trees; both saw flowers in islands of colored light — an image the normal eye captures only by squinting.

What I love about French gardens is the combination of formal elegance and intellectual questioning.

I am very happy in second-hand bookshops; would a gardener not be happy in a garden?

It's a brilliant place to be. It's rewarding. Gardens are so rewarding.

I came to these mediums through having the garden, and of course, people who have designed gardens have always worked in collaboration, and never made their own inscriptions.

Hedge-hogs abound in my gardens and fields.

I always thought of the English landscape as being English gardens.

These gardens may be called the gardens of the respectable working classes.

Despite loving England and loving English gardens, I'm not a chintz person, never was. It's too cute.

I love nature and botanical gardens.

Of course I miss the big gardens we had at our country house but it became very expensive to run we couldn't afford it.

I've been going around London obsessing about people's gardens; I take pictures on my BlackBerry.

I'm a member of the National Trust. I absolutely love architecture, history, geography, the arts and culture. Oh, and I love gardens. I moved from London to Hertfordshire, so I could get a garden.

Building one garden in L.A. - it might be a nice gesture - but it won't make a difference. We have to start to change the culture of the community.

A beautiful city is Richmond, seated on the hills that overlook the James River. The dwellings have a pleasant appearance, often standing by themselves in the midst of gardens. In front of several, I saw large magnolias, their dark, glazed leaves glittering in the March sunshine.

They say that gardens look better when they are created by loving gardeners rather than by landscapers, because the garden is more tended to and cared for. The same thing goes for cooking. I only cook for people I love.

And in my flower-beds, I think, Smile the carnation and the pink.

Others said May was best, that sweet green time when lilacs bloomed and gardens along Main Street were filled with sugary pink peonies and Dutch tulips.

Fit for kings, formal gardens afford an earthly Elysium and the odd impression that we mere men might actually control nature for a time.

There was never any innocence for us, there was never any springtime. There was never any chance, no matter how beautiful the twilight gardens in which we wandered. Our souls were too out of tune, our desires crossed and our resentments to common and too well watered for the final flowering.

With vampiric dexterity I slipped into shadowy gardens and listened at the open doorways of the dimly lighted villas as those inside talked softly over dinner or listened to the delicate music of a young boy accompanying himself with a lyre.

As the serpentine expanse of glass drew open, the city seemed to wrap around them: rooftop gardens with stunted trees in pots, water towers like chunky flying saucers, the spires of distant skyscrapers.