Whatever Peace I Know Rests In The

Gardening Is A Madness, A Folly That Does Not Go Away With Age. Quite The Contrary.

Unless The Gentle Inherit The Earth, / There Will Be No Earth.

Does One Come To Enjoy Even The Hardships That Help Make One The Person One Is? Or Is It That The Past Becomes A Legend To Be Remembered With Laughter?

A Great Silence Has Descended On Me For The Last Six Months. I Am As Silent As An Arab In The Desert, As Dry, Thirsty, And Full Of Wonder And Rumours Which Do Not Materialize Into Camels Or Travellers At All, But Just Vanish Into The Silent Spaces From Where They Came. I Expect This Is A Good Thing Though It Is Extremely Irritating - The Brink Of A Voice And Never A Voice.

Gardening Is An Instrument Of Grace.