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“If you'd like to gain a new understanding of growth, get into gardening.”
― Hendrith Vanlon Smith Jr, CEO of Mayflower-Plymouth

“It's all prickles and spines and anger, covered in pretty, useless blossoms and fruit too bitter to eat. There is nothing in it worth loving."
"How wrong you are."
Zoya's gaze snapped to his, her eyes flashing silver- dragon's eyes. "Am I?"
"Look at the way it grows, protecting everything within these walls, stronger than anything else in the garden, weathering every season. No matter the winter it endures, it blooms again and again."
"What if the winter is just too long and hard? What if it can't bloom again?"
He was afraid to reach for her, but he did it anyway. He took her gloved hand in his. She didn't pull away but folded in to him like a flower closing its petals at nightfall. He wrapped his arm around her. Zoya seemed to hesitate, and then with a soft breath, she let herself lean against him. Zoya the deadly. Zoya the ferocious. The weight of her against him like a benediction. He had been strong for his country, his soldiers, his friends. It meant something different to be strong for her.
"Then you'll be branches without blossom," he whispered against her hair. "And you'll let the rest of us be strong until the summer comes."
"It wasn't a metaphor."
"Of course it wasn't.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves

“Gardens have the magic to heal. When one is grieving, nature’s smile is a tender place to be.”
― Donna Goddard, Love's Longing

“Willows bordered the path, like women bent in mourning, their branches shod in ice and brushing the soft white ground like strands of hair. Flowers and shrubs of every variety overflowed their beds, all of them white with frost, a world made of snow and glass, a garden of ghosts.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Rule of Wolves

“Still, the flowers were growing right along with them, miniature roses and hydrangea, lavender and peonies, magenta and red and pink and purple flowers. And not just in the garden, but all around, the orchard was bursting with green, and smells, and birds singing until long after dark.”
― Jodi Lynn Anderson, The Secrets of Peaches

“Reflecting my life and the Circle of Life in my garden has been a source of Joy and has given a better understanding of the Truth of Love.”
― Melinda Joy Miller, Shamanic Gardening: Timeless Techniques for the Modern Sustainable Garden

“What I am saying is that lovely, whimsical, and soulful things happen in a garden, leaving a gardener giddy.”
― Janisse Ray, The Seed Underground: A Growing Revolution to Save Food

“There is a trailer that I pass on the drive to my parents�� house in Robards,
and obstructing the dance of the overgrown weeds
is a Trump sign.
Last summer, another sign went up next to it.
The sign, handily made of cardboard and black marker, said,
“EXTRA FRUITS AND VEGGIES FROM GARDEN,
STOP BY AND GET YOU SOME.”
― Belle Townsend

“A trellis filled with roses arched above the patio, leading to a winding garden path made out of stones that Lucy wanted to skip along. Flowers in reds and pinks and whites and purples bloomed from the curved edges of the yard, so beautiful they reminded Lucy of something out of Eliza's paintings.”
― Ashley Clark, Paint and Nectar

“Some people consider moss a nuisance, but I find it to be utterly beautiful in its simplicity. Moss symbolizes a charitable nature and a mother's love, and every time I see it, it makes me remember my mama. She's the one who taught me---and Bee---all about the language of flowers.”
― Heather Webber, In the Middle of Hickory Lane

“Ideas are like flowers that bloom in our mind’s garden!”
― Avijeet Das

“It was delicious in the garden. The storm had passed over long since, and it was still and warm; the sweetness of the stocks and roses filled the air with the peculiar intensity of fragrance of flowers after rain - in the evening light they had the unnatural shadowy vividness of a coloured photograph. The rain had stirred up the nightingales too - near and far, their bubbling ecstasy welled out from the dark shelter of ilexes and cypresses, and through the open windows of the villa there came presently the cool elusive sequences of Debussy's music - ghosts of melody rather than melodies, evocations rather than statements; gleams on water and pale lights in spring skies, a single star, slow waves beating in mist on a deserted shore. Grace leant back in the corner of her seat, listening, watching the leaves of the buckthorns, like little curved pencils, against the sky above her head; in the relaxation of fatigue her attention was fixed on nothing, but some part of her was profoundly aware of all these things - the scent of the flowers, the song of the nightingales, the cool western music, with its memories of her own Atlantic shores.”
― Ann Bridge, Illyrian Spring

“Brandt stood at the gate as a garden club arrived at his nursery. One of the women reached over the fence and picked a rhododendron flower. Brandt immediately closed the gate and told the group to go home.”
― Sonja Nelson, The Pacific Coast Rhododendron Story

“Garden is the temple of God”
― Петър Кръстев Petur Krustev

“Μερικές φορές, προκειμένου να φέρω μια γυναίκα πιο κοντά στην άγρια φύση, της ζητάω να φτιάξει έναν κήπο και να τον περιποιείται - είτε μιλάμε για τον κήπο της ψυχής, είτε για έναν κήπο με λάσπες, βρόμες, πρασινάδες και όλα όσα τον περιβάλλουν. Ο κήπος αντιπροσωπεύει την άγρια ψυχή. Εκεί ενώνονται αξεδιάλυτα η ζωή με τον θάνατο...
Φροντίζοντας έναν κήπο εξασκούμαστε στο να αφήνουμε σκέψεις, ιδέες, προτιμήσεις, επιθυμίες, αλλά και αγάπες να ζήσουν και να πεθάνουν...
Ο κήπος είναι μια πρακτική διαλογισμού: Βλέπεις ότι έρχεται η ώρα της συλλογής καρπών και η ώρα της φθοράς. Σε έναν κήπο κινούμαστε στον ρυθμό (και όχι ενάντια) της εισπνοής και της εκπνοής της τρανής άγριας φύσης...
Έτσι γινόμαστε κάτι σαν το κυκλικά άγριο. Αποκτάμε την ικανότητα να γεμίζουμε τα πάντα με ενέργεια, να ενδυναμώνουμε τη ζωή, και να μην παρεμποδίζουμε αυτό που πεθαίνει.”
― Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Women Who Run With the Wolves

“Q: what radicalized you?

A: When we lived in public housing my mom started a community garden to grow food to save money and to occupy the kids that lived there and the public housing authority came & pulled out all the plants and poured bleach into the ground to destroy it. Because gardens weren't allowed.

(8/3/2020 on Twitter)”
― Kaitlyn Greenidge

“Politicians will always fertilize other people's gardens.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“Know that your deepest gifts grow in the garden of your wounds.”
― Traver Boehm, Man Uncivilized

“Don't plant weeds in your garden if you are only hoping for flowers to grow.”
― Anthony T. Hincks

“Work your garden diligently. For the fruit will feed you today and the seeds hold the promise of being fed tomorrow.”
― Craig D. Lounsbrough

“But the sunlight had faded, and now she would enjoy the twilight-turned-evening from the beauty of the garden.
Her garden. Was it even possible that might be true? She still thought of the space as belonging to her mother. That she might now possess the place herself was at once an honor and an overwhelming responsibility: this place where red-and-pink camellia petals fluttered to the ground as though creating a carpet for fairies.”
― Ashley Clark, Paint and Nectar

“The beauty of the garden had inspired her art, her attempts to revitalize and preserve the city and redefine it for new generations. But she never imagined the inverse may also hold true. That her art might come to life.
And paint became nectar in a new, beautiful promise.”
― Ashley Clark, Paint and Nectar

“I'd never given much thought to the biblical standpoint on homosexuality, because I was seemingly a born skeptic, and I could sense the evil prejudices of mortal men within the biblical text. I was frightened of God, and for good reason. If I had only picked up the New Testament in my younger days, my life would have been different. The God of the Old Testament was filled with vengeance and rage towards the beings that he created, giving them free will, and then punishing mankind for daring to use it.

Much as it was in the Bible, the dawning of the knowledge of manhood for me began in the garden...”
― Lioness DeWinter, Corinthians

“Murphy peered around, then touched a few of the bushes, letting her fingers run along the ridges of the leaves while she looked at the different shapes and structures of them and the plants they belonged to. There were rosebushes, azaleas, peonies---none of them blooming yet, all being strangled by kudzu and grapevines. It was like a nightmare garden---the kind a creepy old lady with a bunch of cats would have, Murphy decided. A creepy old lady in an old wedding dress she’d been wearing since being jilted at the altar fifty years ago.”
― Jodi Lynn Anderson, Peaches

“Maybe that’s why I’ve always loved this
backyard,�� she said, sighing in a girlish way, as if
younger than yesterday. “It doesn’t change, and yet it grows beyond measure.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, Peter

“Gardens take many years to make. One cannot just plant stuff and presto—there is a garden. No, gardens have energy. Like houses, they become part of the energy field of the family living in them, particularly the person who has cared for them the most. That is why I love old gardens and houses. They have life. The regular ups, downs, joys, and sorrows of life all mingle together to create a long-term energy field that can be resurrected and used for good and positive purposes.”
― Donna Goddard, Love's Longing

“The footpath lights in the garden were hidden by ferns and Knock Out roses, giving the area a muted green glow, almost like being under the sea.”
― Sarah Addison Allen, Other Birds: A Novel

“The buzzing beneath my feet intensified as I neared the small pool of water. This had to be the gazing pool I'd heard about. Sheltered by tall, skinny evergreens and shrubs that held heavy clusters of small, delicate white flowers, it was shaded by the canopy of an old live oak tree that had moss growing at the base of its trunk.
Curiosity drew me in. Faint ripples pulsed along the water's surface as the small pool burbled gently, peacefully, as if I relieved to be unburdened of its long-held secret about Bee. I studied the burbling, wondering what caused it, because it didn't appear that anyone had placed a running hose beneath its surface. There was no equipment at all. Just clear water.
A knee-high mossy stone wall enclosed the pool, and ferns grew along its foundation, nestled snugly, their fronds rustling in the warm breeze. Suddenly I felt the urge to sit and stare into the water, and I absently smiled, thinking the gazing pool had been appropriately named.”
― Heather Webber, In the Middle of Hickory Lane

“I built a stone sittin' ledge around the natural spring, which I'm calling the gazing pool because it's mesmerizing. The bees love it, too. I often see them flying near it, and sometimes, and I know this sounds strange, they seem to take on a golden shimmer when they're near the water. I planted some ferns at the pool, too, because some believe ferns represent magic, and it sure feels magical out there to me.”
― Heather Webber, In the Middle of Hickory Lane

“Fragrances rise up---the thyme's spicy astringency and the fuzzy menthol of the sage, the chamomile's daisy-petal smell and the piney cool rosemary. The lavender, not yet in flower, is surprisingly mute. I direct the mist toward the basil, and the aroma jumps up like a lemon tree eating a pizza.”
― Virginia Hartman, The Marsh Queen