Flowers Really Do Intoxicate Me.

Autumn In Felted Slipper Shuffles On, Muted Yet Fiery.--vita Sackville-west

It Is Necessary To Write, If The Days Are Not To Slip Emptily By. How Else, Indeed, To Clap The Net Over The Butterfly Of The Moment? For The Moment Passes, It Is Forgotten; The Mood Is Gone; Life Itself Is Gone. That Is Where The Writer Scores Over His Fellows: He Catches The Changes Of His Mind On The Hop.

The Public, As A Whole, Finds Reassurance In Longevity, And, After The Necessary Interlude Of Reaction, Is Disposed To Recognize Extreme Old Age As A Sign Of Excellence. The Long-liver Has Triumphed Over At Least One Of Man's Initial Handicaps: The Brevity Of Life.

Still, No Gardener Would Be A Gardener If He Did Not Live In Hope.

Every Garden-maker Should Be An Artist Along His Own Lines. That Is The Only Possible Way To Create A Garden, Irrespective Of Size Or Wealth.