When held up to the window pane, What fixed my baby stare? The glory of the glittering rain, And newness everywhere.

The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.

Public opinion is no more than this: what people think that other people think.

Alfred Austin said, "Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are."

Tears are Summer showers to the soul.

We come from the earth, we return to the earth, and in between we garden.

Faded smiles oft linger in the face, While grief's first flakes fall silent on the heart!

There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.

Pale January lay In its cradle day by day Dead or living, hard to say.

Exclusiveness in a garden is a mistake as great as it is in society.

Though my verse but roam the air And murmur in the trees, You may discern a purpose there, As in music of the bees.

Right is just and true.

Poetic talent doesn't operate in a vacuum. There is a spirit of Polish poetry.

To think of failure is to fail.

But when I play, I still practice hard and focus on my game.

Opened Christmas cards hum to me the hymn of love and teach me the sacrament of correspondence.

Without wisdom, the future has no meaning, no valuable purpose.

Stupidity cannot be cured with money, or through education, or by legislation.

The "outside" constitutes the horizon of meaning and the vital energy of our practice and thought.

The worst evils are those that never arrive.

Artistic growth is, more than it is anything else, a refining of the sense of truthfulness.