Garden Quotes

Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.

The world is a garden of philosophy. God is its gardener; Man is the visitor.
And any tree that does not bear fruits of philosophy either does not belong to
that garden or is yet to be grown.

The master of the garden is the one who waters it, trims the branches, plants the seeds, and pulls the weeds. If you merely stroll through the garden, you are but an acolyte.

...how many writers still dare compare a woman to Nature, like Campion? - there is a garden in her face - how lovely...

A man of words and not of deeds,
Is like a garden full of weeds.

I’ll admit that my garden now grows hope in lavish profusion, leaving little room for anything else. I suppose it has squeezed out more practical plants like caution and common sense. Still, though, hope does not flourish in every garden, and I feel thankful it has taken root in mine.

I like the posture, but not the yoga.
I like the inebriated morning, but not the opium. I like the flower but not the garden, the moment but not the dream. Quiet, my love. Be still. I am sleeping.

A black cat among roses,
phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon,
the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still.
It is dazed with moonlight,
contented with perfume...

A garden should make you feel you've entered privileged space - a place not just set apart but reverberant - and it seems to me that, to achieve this, the gardener must put some kind of twist on the existing landscape, turn its prose into something nearer poetry.

They were full of mysteries and secrets, like... like poems turned into landscapes."

"'Poems turned into landscapes.'" he murmured with a slight smile. "And what of Vestenveld's gardens? Do you see poems in them?"

"Your gardens are like your country's poetry. Very frilly and organized.

Spring time is nature at its best.

A book is a garden, an orchard, a storehouse, a party, a company by the way, a counselor, a multitude of counselors.

Wander with intent
into a garden glorious.
Walk with double brisk
upon edenic paths.
Flee the cursing fear
that lights upon your eye.
Seize the twisted dream
that strangles earth and sky.

This is my mind's garden, I tend it; I order it. I have nothing to fear.

Beauty was worth
Its every sorrow, mind's fading or World's ending,
As darkness covered the garden that is the earth.

A garden is beautiful only when it is filled with people; they determine its beauty

Somewhere on the world was the Emperor's palace, set amid one hundred square miles of natural soil, rainbowed with flowers.

Seeds have the power to preserve species, to enhance cultural as well as genetic diversity, to counter economic monopoly and to check the advance of conformity on all its many fronts.

It has become much harder, in the past century, to tell where the garden leaves off and pure nature begins.

To anyone with a drop of Irish blood in them the land they live on is like their mother. It's the only thing that lasts, that's worth working for, for fighting for...