Still, No Gardener Would Be A Gardener

How Poor And Disheartening A Thing Is Experience Compared With Hope!

It Is No Good My Telling You. One Never Believes Other People's Experiencem And One Is Only Very Gradually Convinced By One's Own.

I Do Not Like January Very Much. It Is Too Stationary. Not Enough Happens. I Like The Evidences Of Life, And In January There Are Too Few Of Them.

Growth Is Exciting; Growth Is Dynamic And Alarming.

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.