Garden Quotes - Page 35

• From all of our beginnings, we keep reliving the Garden story.

  Ann Voskamp

  Stories

  Ann Voskamp (2011). “One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are”, p.15, Zondervan

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• I wanted to write you a story about magic. I wanted rabbits appearing from hats. I wanted balloons lifting you into the sky. It turned out to be nothing but sadness, war, heartbreak. You never saw it, but there’s a garden inside me.

  Shane Jones

  War, Sadness, Writing

  Shane Jones (2010). “Light Boxes: A Novel”, p.54, Penguin

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• Feeling a little foolish over her confidences, Elizabeth glanced up at him with an embarrassed smile. “What is the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?” Dragging his gaze from the beauty of the gardens, Ian looked down at the beauty beside him. “Any place,” he said huskily, “where you are.

  Judith McNaught

  Beautiful, Feelings, Littles

  Judith McNaught (1991). “Almost Heaven”, p.356, Simon and Schuster

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• Because,” he said quietly as she stood up, “until you walked into it, this was an ordinary garden.” Puzzled, Elizabeth tipped her head. “What is it now?” “Heaven.

  Judith McNaught

  Heaven, Ordinary, Stood Up

  Judith McNaught (1991). “Almost Heaven”, p.372, Simon and Schuster

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• Looking at her, he was in London again. He saw the gaslight and smelled the smoke and dirt and horses, the metallic tang of fog, the flowers in Kew Gardens. He saw a boy with black hair and blue eyes like Alec's. A girl with long brown curls and a serious face. In a world where everything went away from him eventually, she was one of the few remaining constants.

  Cassandra Clare

  Girl, Horse, Flower

  Cassandra Clare (2011). “City of Fallen Angels”, p.259, Simon and Schuster

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• When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth.

  Rumi

  Song, Light, Wings

  Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi (2008). “The Pocket Rumi”, p.109, Shambhala Publications

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• I am a bird of God's garden
  and I do not belong to this dusty world
  For a day or two they have put me here
  in this cage of my own body
  I did not come here of my own
  I will not return of my own
  to my own country.

  Rumi

  Wisdom, Country, Islamic

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• And when you come back to Japan next summer, let's have that date or whatever you want to call it. We can go to the zoo or the botanical garden or the aquarium, and then we'll have the most politically correct and scrumptious omelets we can find.

  Haruki Murakami

  Summer, Zoos, Japan

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• Sometimes when she was alone, and she knew she was alone, she permitted her mind to play in a garden, and she smiled.

  John Steinbeck

  Play, Mind, Sometimes

  John Steinbeck (2001). “Novels, 1942-1952”

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• What can my enemies do to me?
  I have in my breast both my Heaven and my Garden.
  If I travel they are with me, and they never leave me.
  Imprisonment for me is a religious retreat [khalwa].
  To be slain for me is martyrdom [shahada]
  And to be exiled from my land is a spiritual journey [siyaha].

  Ibn Taymiyyah

  Spiritual, Wisdom, Religious

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• You rave about the Holy Place (Masjid al-Haram) and say you've visited God's garden but where is your bunch of flowers? There is some merit in the suffering you have endured but what a pity you have not discovered the Makkah thats inside

  Rumi

  Wisdom, Flower, Islamic

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• Now the gardener is the one who has seen everything ruined so many times that (even as his pain increases with each loss) he comprehends - truly knows - that where there was a garden once, it can be again, or where there never was, there yet can be a garden.

  Henry Mitchell

  Death, Pain, Loss

  Henry Mitchell (2003). “The Essential Earthman: Henry Mitchell on Gardening”, p.3, Indiana University Press

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• Don't accuse me of being morbid when I'm merely the product of a culture that buries the bones of the ones they love in pretty, manicured flower gardens so they can keep them nearby and go talk to them whenever they feel troubled or depressed. That's morbid. Not to mention bizarre. Dogs bury bones, too.

  Karen Marie Moning

  Dog, Flower, Culture

  Karen Marie Moning (2016). “The Fever Series 7-Book Bundle: Darkfever, Bloodfever, Faefever, Dreamfever, Shadowfever, Iced, Burned”, p.171, Dell

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• Joseph shall return to Canaan, grieve not, Hovels shall turn to rose gardens, grieve not. If a flood should arrive, to drown all that's alive, Noah is your guide in the typhoon's eye, grieve not.

  Khaled Hosseini

  Eye, Grieving, Rose

  Khaled Hosseini (2008). “A Thousand Splendid Suns”, p.365, A&C Black

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• The man who wants a garden fair, or small or very big, With flowers growing here and there, Must bend his back and dig. The things are mighty few on earth That wishes can attain. Whate'er we want of any worth We've got to work to gain. It matters not what goal you seek, It's secret here reposes: You've got to dig from week to week To get Results or Roses.

  Edgar Guest

  Flower, Men, Goal

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• The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alivewith chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names.

  F. Scott Fitzgerald

  Laughter, Air, Swings

  F. Scott Fitzgerald (2013). “The Great Gatsby”, p.32, Atlântico Press

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• Our blessed Savior chose the Garden for his Oratory, and dying, for the place of his Sepulchre; and we do avouch for many weighty causes, that there are none more fit to bury our dead in than in our Gardens and Groves, where our Beds may be decked with verdant and fragrant flowers, Trees and Perennial Plants, the most natural and instructive Hieroglyphics of our expected Resurrection and Immortality.

  John Evelyn

  Death, Flower, Blessed

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• Never thee stop believin' in th' Big Good Thing an' knowin' th' world's full of it - and call it what tha' likes. Tha' wert singin' to it when I come into t' garden.

  Frances Hodgson Burnett

  Likes, World, Good Things

  Frances Hodgson Burnett (1911). “The Secret Garden”, Copp Clark Company

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• People’s souls are like gardens. You can’t turn your back on someone because his garden’s full of weeds. You have to give him water and lots of sunshine.

  Nancy Farmer

  Weed, Sunshine, People

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• Sitting in an English
  Garden waiting for the sun
  If the sun don't come
  You get a tan from standing in the English rain.

  John Lennon

  Rain, Waiting, Sitting

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• The devil stole into the Garden of Eden. He carried with him the disease - amor deliria nervosa - in the form of a seed. It grew and flowered into a magnificent apple tree, which bore apples as bright as blood. -From Genesis: A Complete History of the World and the Known Universe, by Steven Horace, PhD, Harvard University

  Lauren Oliver

  Eden, Apples, Blood

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• Looking at life through the eyes of a Daddy long legs: Imagine walking on legs so long you could cover a mile in fifty strides! Imagine looking to either side through eyes set not in your head but in a... hump in your back! Imagine your knees, when you walked, working a dozen feet or more above your head.

  Edwin Way Teale

  Eye, Feet, Long

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• Half the interest of a garden is the constant exercise of the imagination. You are always living three, or indeed six, months hence. I believe that people entirely devoid of imagination never can be really good gardeners. To be content with the present, and not striving about the future, is fatal.

  Alice Morse Earle

  Time, Memories, Believe

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• The incarnate Word is with us, is still speaking, is present always, yet leaves no sign but everything that is.

  Wendell Berry

  Stills

  Wendell Berry (2013). “This Day: New and Collected Sabbath Poems 1979 - 2012”, p.203, Counterpoint

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• O Thou, Far off and here, whole and broken, Who in necessity and in bounty wait, Whose truth is light and dark, mute though spoken, By Thy wide grace show me Thy narrow gate.

  Wendell Berry

  Dark, Light, Broken

  Wendell Berry (2012). “New Collected Poems”, p.242, Counterpoint Press

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