Still, No Gardener Would Be A Gardener

There Are No Signposts In The Sea.

Not Seeing Is Half-believing.

For The Last 40 Years Of My Life I Have Broken My Back, My Fingernails, And Sometimes My Heart, In The Practical Pursuit Of My Favourite Occupation.

I Suppose The Pleasure Of The Country Life Lies Really In The Eternally Renewed Evidences Of The Determination To Live. That Is A Truism When Said, But Anything But A Truism When Daily Observed. Nothing Shows Up The Difference Between The Thing Said Or Read, So Much As The Daily Experience Of It.

A Letter, By Its Arrival, Defrauds Us Of A Whole Secret Region Of Our Existence, The Only Region Indeed In Which The True Pleasure Of Life May Be Tasted, The Region Of Imagination, Creative And Protean, The Clouds And Beautiful Shapes Of Whose Heaven Are Destroyed By The Wind Of Reality.