Flowers Really Do Intoxicate Me.

It Is A Sad Moment When The First Phlox Appears. It Is The Amber Light Indicating The End Of The Great Burst Of Early Summer And Suggesting That We Must Now Start Looking Forward To Autumn. Not That I Have Any Objection To Autumn As A Season, Full Of Its Own Beauty; But I Just Cannot Bear To See Another Summer Go, And I Recoil From What The First Hint Of Autumn Means.

It Always Seemed To Me That The Herbaceous Peony Is The Very Epitome Of June. Larger Than Any Rose, It Has Something Of The Cabbage Rose's Voluminous Quality; And When It Finally Drops From The Vase, It Sheds Its Petticoats With A Bump On The Table, All In An Intact Heap, Much As A Rose Will Suddenly Fall, Making Us Look Up From Our Book Or Conversation, To Notice For One Moment The Death Of What Had Still Appeared To Be A Living Beauty.

I Just Miss You, In A Quite Simple Desperate Human Way. Oh My Dear, I Can’t Be Clever And Stand-offish With You: I Love You Too Much For That. Too Truly.you Have No Idea How Stand-offish I Can Be With People I Don’t Love. I Have Brought It To A Fine Art. But You Have Broken Down My Defences. And I Don’t Really Resent It.

Things Were Not Tragic For Us Then, Because Although We Cared Passionately We Didn't Care Deeply.

A Man And His Tools Make A Man And His Trade.