To Dig One's Own Spade

A Garden Without Cats, It Will Be Generally Agreed, Can Scarcely Deserve To Be Called A Garden At All.

To Be Overcome By The Fragrance Of Flowers Is A Delectable Form Of Defeat.

The Oldfields Of The Future Are Beyond Hearing; They Are Shut Up In The Factories And The Workshops, Leading A Rackety And Mechanical Existence, To The Damage Of Their Bodies And The Peril Of Their Souls, For The Sake Of An Extra Pound Or So A Week, Which They Promptly Spend On Mental Or Physical Narcotics.

A Garden Without Cats, It Will Be Generally Agreed, Can Scarcely Deserve To Be Called A Garden At All...much Of The Magic Of The Heather Beds Would Vanish If, As We Bent Over Them, There Was No Chance That We Might Hear A Faint Rustle Among The Blossoms, And Find Ourselves Staring Into A Pair Of Sleepy Green Eyes.

Marriage Is A Book Of Which The First Chapter Is Written In Poetry And The Remaining Chapters In Prose.