Dear little head, that lies in calm content Within the gracious hollow that God made In every human shoulder, where He meant Some tired head for comfort should be laid.

I wonder what spendthrift chose to spill Such a bright gold under my windowsill! Is it fair gold? Does it glitter still? Bless me! It's a daffodil!

Sad soul, take comfort, nor forget That sunrise never failed us yet.

Already the dandelions Are changed into vanishing ghosts.

When in these fresh mornings I go into my garden before any one is awake, I go for the time being into perfect happiness.

There shall be an eternal summer in the grateful heart.

Like the musician, the painter, the poet and the rest, the true lover of flowers is born, not made.

It seems to me the worst of all the plagues is the slug, the snail without a shell. He is beyond description repulsive, a mass of sooty, shapeless slime, and he devours everything.

Ever since I could remember anything, flowers have been like dear friends to me, comforters, inspirers, powers to uplift and to cheer.

This very act of planting a seed in the earth has in it to me something beautiful. I always do it with a joy that is largely mixed with awe.

When the snow is still blowing against the window-pane in January and February and the wild winds are howling without, what pleasure it is to plan for summer that is to be.

Don’t wait for things to happen. Make them happen.

Think better than bitter

Ronald Reagan was just as angry. But he made you want to stand right alongside him and shake your fist at the same things he was shaking his fist at.

They needed to share one secret after another with a beautiful woman, to peel away layer after layer, mask after mask, and still find themselves worshiped.

I am not a greedy person except about flowers and plants, and then I become fanatically greedy.

Without knowing every single detail in a man's life, we cannot judge whether he is a good person or not!

There is no secret so close as that between a rider and his horse.

I'm going to retire undefeated. I'll take everybody out one-by-one then go on my merry way

When one has lost a friend one's eyes should be neither dry nor streaming. Tears, yes, there should be, but not lamentation.

Man often acquires just so much knowledge as to discover his ignorance, and attains so much experience as to regret his follies, and then dies.