Quotes About Garden

There's something Zen-like about the way I work - it's like raking gravel in a Zen Buddhist garden.

You rarely get satisfaction sitting in an easy chair. If you work in a garden on the other hand, and it yields beautiful tomatoes, that's a good feeling.

My father read 'The New York Times,' my mother did secretarial work, we had a dog, we had a garden, I had a brother.

One of the first houses we lived in was like out of a fairy story. We had a stream that ran through our garden, and we played with the ducks - we locked them in my mum's office, and they pooed everywhere. It was crazy, picking blackberries and mushrooms, rabbits running through your legs.

So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage-leaf, to make an apple-pie; and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. 'What! no soap?' So he died, and she very imprudently married the barber.

I used to sing classical music to the flowers in the garden and imagine they were all different parts of the orchestra. It used to really annoy the neighbours.

I have an organic garden and love being able to say, 'I'm going to see what I can pick to throw in my salad.'

My house and my garden are built as part of nature, not over it.

These are the objects of my prayers. A plot of land – not so very large. A garden, a spring beside the house, its water ever-flowing, and a small wood on a slope.

You're...standing...in...my...KUMQUATS!

One of the police found a garden chair that I could stand on and they eyed me suspiciously as I tried to slide through the window. The fleece that I was wearing was padding me out too much so I took it off. I tried again, and this time it was my pen, pen-torch and scissors in my shirt pocket that got in the way. I moved them into my trouser pocket. One of the police asked if it would help if I was buttered up. I pretended not to listen to him. Or the giggles of my crewmate.

The body is the garden of the soul.

Tori is the woman in your neighborhood who stops by your garden, pauses, and gets you going for three hours on the topic of lilies that grow best in winter sun. Later, you'll walk by her pea patch and discover the most spectacular flower, not exactly what you planted, but something that shows the influence of the tips you shared.

the Hemulen said. 'He's helping me in the garden. Fillyjonk and Mymble ought to keep house for us all, the womenfolk should do these things

We've decided to wake a miss for you because you are nice. We want a booby as roomful as ours." Everybody had seen the Hobgoblin laugh, but nobody believed he could smile. He was so happy that you could see it all over him -- from his hat to his boots! Without a word he waved his cloak over the grass -- and behold! Once more the garden was filled with a pink light and there on the grass before them lay a twin to the King's Ruby -- the Queen's Ruby.

There are more men lurking in sheds in my garden than in any D.H. Lawrence novel.

Above the tower — a lone, twice-sized moon. On the cold river passing night-filled homes, It scatters restless gold across waves... Empty peaks, silence: among sparse stars, Not yet flawed, it drifts. Pine and cinnamon Spreading in my old garden.... All light, All ten thousand miles at once in its light!

He said, 'Excuse me, is this the way to the strawberry garden?' and I said, 'It certainly is!' and he said, 'Thank you' and I said, 'Are you going to the jubilee festival tonight?' and he said, 'Urgh, I suppose I have to,' and I said, 'Cool, see you there!' so, obviously, we are destined to be together forever. Don't you dare tell me otherwise!

One thinks one is going to the tropics and one finds oneself in the Chinese version of Welwyn Garden City.

The fool who loves giving advice on our garden never tends his own plants

THE GARDEN WAS QUIET. Beyond its walls no echo of footsteps could be heard above the soft incessant splash of the waterfall. The silence was planned, as everything in the garden was planned, though all seemed nature itself.

lawn and flowering dogwood

But, lo! and just as the coach drove off, Miss Sharp put her pale face out of the window and actually flung the book back into the garden.

Roehampton is not far from Richmond, and one day the chariot, with the golden bullocks emblazoned on the panels, and the flaccid children within, drove to Amelia's house at Richmond; and the Bullock family made an irruption into the garden, where Amelia was reading a book, Jos was in an arbour placidly dipping strawberries into wine, and the Major in one of his Indian jackets was giving a back to Georgy, who chose to jump over him.