Quotes
Quotes about Garden
There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners.
God Almighty first planted a garden.
'T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,--the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out.
And add to these retired Leisure,
That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.
The fairest garden in her looks,
And in her mind the wisest books.
God the first garden made, and the first city Cain.
I 've often wish'd that I had clear,
For life, six hundred pounds a year;
A handsome house to lodge a friend;
A river at my garden's end;
A terrace walk, and half a rood
Of land set out to plant a wood.
A cow is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of a garden.
Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.
The world was sad, the garden was a wild,
And man the hermit sigh'd--till woman smiled.
Again to the battle, Achaians!
Our hearts bid the tyrants defiance!
Our land, the first garden of Liberty's tree,
It has been, and shall yet be, the land of the free.
Yes, in the poor man's garden grow
Far more than herbs and flowers--
Kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind,
And joy for weary hours.
From yon blue heaven above us bent,
The grand old gardener and his wife
Smile at the claims of long descent.
Come into the garden, Maud,
For the black bat, night, has flown;
Come into the garden, Maud,
I am here at the gate alone.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls.
The skipper stormed and tore his hair,
Hauled on his boots and roared at Marden--
"Nantucket's sunk and here we are
Right over old Marm Hackett's garden!"
A Garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!
Rose plot,
Fringed pool,
Ferned grot,
The veriest school of Peace; and yet the fool contends that God is not--
Not God! in Gardens! when the eve is cool?
Nay, but I have a sign:
'T is very sure God walks in mine.
There is a garden in her face,
Where roses and white lilies show;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow.
There cherries hang that none may buy,
Till cherry ripe themselves do cry.
I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.
As a lodge in a garden of cucumbers.
I'm summoned by the fields and hills, The shady maples in the garden, The bank of the deserted burn, The liberties the country offers. Give me your hand. I will return At the beginning of October: We'll drink together once again, And o'er our cups of friendly candor Discuss a dozen gentlemen-- We'll talk of fools and wicked gentry, And those with flunkey's souls from birth, And sometimes of the Tsar of Heaven, And sometimes of the one on earth.
I was creating man afresh, planting him in a garden with clean white body and the innocent eyes of a deer. But he would not stay there: he must needs leap out to his plotting and blood-letting and sniggering nastiness
Now I see the garden that I've grown is just the same as those outside. The fences that, erected to protect, simply divide.
I value my garden more for being full of blackbirds than of cherries, and very frankly give them fruit for their songs.
To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.
