The More One Gardens, The More One

For A Young Man To Start His Career With A Love Affair With An Older Woman Was Quite De Rigueur ... Of Course, It Must Not Go On For Too Long. An Apprenticeship Was A Very Different Thing From A Career.

I Like Muddling Things Up; And If A Herb Looks Nice In A Border, Then Why Not Grow It There? Why Not Grow Anything Anywhere So Long As It Looks Right Where It Is? That Is, Surely, The Art Of Gardening.

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.

However Many Resolutions One Makes, One's Pen, Like Water, Always Finds Its Own Level, And One Can't Write In Any Way Other Than 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.