Best 1897 quotes in «garden quotes» category

Garden’s hush opens up an abyss at my center, still point. Someone touches me, mystery, otherness. No words are spoken, silence the language of God. Silence, calm, hushed garden usher me into a presence, presence of my beloved. Let me rest in this quiet visit, gift that puts a beautiful end to a hectic day. Someone is with me—that is all that matters! -Evening Hush

Garden is garden.

Genevieve was familiar with one of the duke's properties- Rosemont- as she'd gone to tour it once when he was away at one of his other vast tracts of lands. It was surprisingly modest by duke terms, a redbrick manor in West Sussex presiding over a collection of softly swelling hills, which surrounded a lake populated by enormous, irritable swans and overhung with willows. The garden had been brilliant with its namesake blooms and the fountain in the courtyard featured a lasciviously grinning stone satyr performing an arabesque and spitting water high into the air. She'd found it delightful. Its pocket-sized, whimsical beauty hardly seemed to suit him, but then he normally spent his time in London and likely had all but forgotten he owned it.

Gian Pero Frau, one of the most important characters in the supporting cast surrounding S'Apposentu, runs an experimental farm down the road from the restaurant. His vegetable garden looks like nature's version of a teenager's bedroom, a rebellious mess of branches and leaves and twisted barnyard wire. A low, droning buzz fills the air. "Sorry about the bugs," he says, a cartoonish cloud orbiting his head. But beneath the chaos a bloom of biodynamic order sprouts from the earth. He uses nothing but dirt and water and careful observation to sustain life here. Every leaf and branch has its place in this garden; nothing is random. Pockets of lettuce, cabbage, fennel, and flowers grow in dense clusters together; on the other end, summer squash, carrots, and eggplant do their leafy dance. "This garden is built on synergy. You plant four or five plants in a close space, and they support each other. It might take thirty or forty days instead of twenty to get it right, but the flavor is deeper." (There's a metaphor in here somewhere, about his new life Roberto is forging in the Sardinian countryside.) "He's my hero," says Roberto about Gian Piero. "He listens, quietly processes what I'm asking for, then brings it to life. Which doesn't happen in places like Siddi." Together, they're creating a new expression of Sardinian terreno, crossing genetic material, drying vegetables and legumes under a variety of conditions, and experimenting with harvesting times that give Roberto a whole new tool kit back in the kitchen. We stand in the center of the garden, crunching on celery and lettuce leaves, biting into zucchini and popping peas from their shells- an improvised salad, a biodynamic breakfast that tastes of some future slowly forming in the tangle of roots and leaves around us.

God's creation is absolute amazing. He is the great God of wonders.

Going out to the garden is to go on a holiday; when you travel amongst the flowers, your body touches heaven and your mind tastes the secrets of ataraxia!

Grandma Hutto’s flower garden was a bright patchwork quilt thrown down inside the pickets.

Happiness will grow if you plant the seeds of love in the garden of hope with compassion and care.

He asked her, 'Why do you feel sorry for me, Old Woman?' The Old Woman stood beside him and looked out the window at the Garden, so beautiful, flowering and everywhere illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, and said, 'I feel sorry for you, dear Youth, because I know where you are gazing and what you are waiting for. I feel sorry for you and your mother.' Perhaps because of these words, or perhaps because of something else, there was a change in the Youth's mood. The Garden, flowering behind the high fence below his window, and exuding a wonderful fragrance, suddenly seemed somehow strange to him; and an ominous sensation, a sudden fear, gripped his heart with a violent palpitation, like heady and languid fragrances rising from brilliant flowers. 'What is happening?' he wondered in confusion. ("The Poison Garden")

Health is real wealth and peace of mind is real happiness. Plant seeds which will bear colorful flowers and make the garden of your life bloom with their fragrance.

Here is a greedy man who keeps to himself The beautiful pears ripe in his garden.

Her laughter sounded like April showers, like whispered secrets, like glass wind-chimes.

He's an escapist. He wants to cultivate his interior garden.

He stared up at the moon, which looked like a giant hole in the sky, letting light through to the other side.

I am for true world peace and building a beautiful global garden for our children.

i can’t always tell what’s better long drives in the star-spangled deserts or long walks along winding tea gardens.

...how many writers still dare compare a woman to Nature, like Campion? - there is a garden in her face - how lovely...

Here, in the garden at night, it is another world, strange and yet friendly and familiar, never frightening. There is such quietness, such sweetness, such refreshment. Close your eyes. Breathe in again, smell everything mingled together, flowers and earth and leaves and grass. Smell the night. Listen. Nothing at all. Silence, rushing like the sea in your ears. However small and sparse the garden, and wherever it is, even inside a great city, if something grows there, it is a magic place by night. Leave it, walk quietly back towards the lights that shine out of the house. You will take its magic with you. Now, you will sleep.

If God had a flower for each moment He thought of you, the whole universe would be a garden.

If I had a rose for every day I thought of her, I would have a garden full.

Il susino è sfiorito. Chioma verde di foglioline giovani. Nessuno adesso potrebbe sospettare la bellezza mozzafiato di prima. Così per tante donne vecchie che per pochi giorni soltanto sono state belle.

If only we wait on God's timings, we shall eat of the best fruits from the tree of life in the garden of God.

If you stop tending to flowers when they lose a few petals, you will never grow a garden.

I loved you, I did. I believe I even sold myself a bit: on your love, my lust, your hair and just the way we stood there. How the air smelled of you, the way your shirt was cursed with blues. The way we danced by the ocean in front your mini-garden. The white fence, your loveliness and the heavenly kisses. It’ll always be the sheets, lying beside, holding your arm and kissing your hair in a loving stride.

In beautiful gardens you still find ugly weeds.

In the beginning was the word and the word was love and love was imagination. When love takes us through the sun-dappled garden of our imagination, no stalking horses can perturb the rainbow in our mind or fade out its bright colors reflecting in the blue sky of our memory. ("Alpha and Omega")

I love the beauty of nature.

In most gardens", the Tiger-lily said, "they make the beds too soft-so that the flowers are always asleep.

In the garden of dreams, there are many great seeds of possibilities waiting to sprout - looking for your attention - the water and the light.

In the garden of humanity every baby is a fresh new flower who can smile, laugh, giggle, dance, love and sing with mother earth.

Ideas are like flowers that bloom in our mind's garden!

I present... the courtyard!" The curtain slid away to reveal a wall of glass. Several production workers slid the transparent panels along the tracks until the entire room opened up onto a massive outdoor kitchen. The contestants filed outside, stunned by the extravagance. It doubled the size of their workspace. Stovetops and grills were set into brick counters. Refrigerators were tucked safely under a canvas canopy. And best of all- most thrilling of all- was a lush, vibrant perennial border that surrounded the entire kitchen, filled with edible plants, herbs, and flowers. Bright orange nasturtiums nodded in the afternoon sunshine, tender peas twined about a chicken wire fence. Bees hovered over patches of fuzzy thyme. Sophia laughed out loud. This was utterly delightful. "Your dream come true, Miss Garden Fairy?" The Scot's thick arms crossed his chest. He looked utterly disinterested. "There are fully-stocked pantries inside, as well. But the outdoor facility takes advantage of our beautiful Vermont landscape. Edibles in the garden." Mr. Smith pointed to glass-fronted coolers. "Local cheeses and other dairy products." He sauntered over to the canopied area and the cameras followed him. Baskets of fresh produce lined the tables. "We locally farmed proteins, fruits, and vegetables. Honey. Maple syrup. Anything and everything you can imagine." He took a perfectly ripe strawberry from one of the boxes and popped it into his mouth.

It goes without saying that even those of us who are going to hell will get eternal life—if that territory really exists outside religious books and the minds of believers, that is. Having said that, given the choice, instead of being grilled until hell freezes over, the average sane human being would, needless to say, rather spend forever idling in an extremely fertile garden, next to a lamb or a chicken or a parrot, which they do not secretly want to eat, and a lion or a tiger or a crocodile, which does not secretly want to eat them.

I think we did love each other. In our own way. But we simply didn't love each other enough.

It is a good news that the private universities are shifting to their own campuses. But, the more vital thing is to ensure such campuses for the children's schools where there will be a field at least!

It is idle to say there is no such garden. Everyone recognises the same nostalgia... Paradise is neither a moment nor a place; it is a condition. So when the lover calls to his or her beloved to come into the garden, it is, in the final implication, a summons to overcome to human condition.

It is not hard to start a small garden, all you need is a sapling, a planting pot, a small bag of soil, and regular watering. There you go, you helped cooling the earth down by one plant.

It is the rain, not the clouds, that nourishes gardens.

It thanked her for the life she breathed into hits being; without her influence, this little being would not have been in the Garden of Glory.

Lord Henry went out to the garden and found Dorian Gray burying his face in the great cool lilac-blossoms, feverishly drinking in their perfume as if it had been wine.

In the graveyard built on a garden. The death of Every flower added a little life to the heart of the corpses buried deep inside.

In the garden of my heart Flowers of loves were blooming Not just to express the beauty But to spread the fragrance Of happiness.

It is the duty of United Nations is to make every international border a garden, a place of art and cultural festival.

It was a garden, a walled garden. Overgrown but with beautiful bones visible still. Someone had cared for this garden once. The remains of two paths snaked back and forth, intertwined like the lacing on an Irish dancing shoe. Fruit trees had been espaliered around the sides, and wires zigzagged from the top of one wall to the top of another. Hungry, wisteria branches had woven themselves around to form a sort of canopy. Against the southern wall, an ancient and knobbled tree was growing. Cassandra went closer. It was the apple tree, she realized, the one whose bough had reached over the wall. She lifted her hand to touch one of the golden fruit. The tree was about sixteen feet high and shaped like the Japanese bonsai plant Nell had given Cassandra for her twelfth birthday.

It was nice to call my parents and proudly tell them, "My lady garden is going viral." In hindsight, that may have been a poor choice of phrasing.

I wonder wether it is possible to stay delirious and in love when you've been together for a long time.

Love is meant to be shared, and happy is the woman who'd willing to risk all for that.

Love is the most beautiful flower in the garden of life.

May I free myself from the ever-pressing chest and enter the garden of imagination by leisurely hiding brain on hill summits.

Mbegu zilizopandwa kwenye udongo wenye rutuba ni rahisi sana kuvamiwa na magugu iwapo mwenye bustani hataipalilia bustani yake kila siku. Kila siku tunapaswa kupalilia bustani zetu za kiroho, kuondoa magugu ambayo ni raha za dunia hii.