It Is Dreadful How I Miss You,

There's No Beginning To The Farmer's Year, / Only Recurrent Patterns On A Scroll / Unwinding...

Travel Is A Private Pleasure, Since It Consists Entirely Of Things Felt And Things Seen.

The Shortest Day Has Passed, And Whatever Nastiness Of Weather We May Look Forward To In January And February, At Least We Notice That The Days Are Getting Longer. Minute By Minute They Lengthen Out. It Takes Some Weeks Before We Become Aware Of The Change. It Is Imperceptible Even As The Growth Of A Child, As You Watch It Day By Day, Until The Moment Comes When With A Start Of Delighted Surprise We Realize That We Can Stay Out Of Doors In A Twilight Lasting For Another Quarter Of A Precious Hour.

Every Garden-maker Should Be An Artist Along His Own Lines. That Is The Only Possible Way To Create A Garden, Irrespective Of Size Or Wealth.

It Is Dreadful How I Miss You, And Everything That Everybody Says Seems Flat And Stupid.