garden

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

A soul without kindness is like a garden without plants and flowers.

Happiness will bloom With fragrance and beautyIf you plant the seeds of loveWith a deep driving desire in the garden of hopeAnd nurture with tenderness,Compassion, and care;If you are always eager to share.

Wander with intentinto a garden glorious.Walk with double briskupon edenic paths.Flee the cursing fearthat lights upon your eye.Seize the twisted dreamthat strangles earth and sky.

Yes! If you really love your beautiful garden of dreams, you will never allow any hungry beast to have its way in. Keep dream killers away!

Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.

We can all produce good fruits with fertile soil.

We ought to discover the beauty of creation through a walk in nature.

Sow good seeds for a bountiful harvest of good fruits.

Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom

A poor old Widow in her weedsSowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;Not too shallow, and not too deep,And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.Up shone May, like gold, and soonGreen as an arbour grew leafy June.And now all summer she sits and sewsWhere willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;Like Oberon's meadows her garden isDrowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;And all she has is all she needs --A poor Old Widow in her weeds.

Faith in God is the fruit of the earth.

Agony's PlotA zephyr skimmedacross my creamy skingently kissingwhere the sun had been....

You__e thinking, maybe it would be easier to let it sliplet it gosay __ give up_ one last time and give him a sad smile.You__e thinkingit shouldn__ be this hard,shouldn__ be this dark,thinkinglove could flow easily with no holding backand you__e seen others find their match and build something greattogether,of each other,like two halves fitting perfectly and now they achieve great thingsone by one, always together, and it seems grand.But you love him. Love him like a black stone in your chest you couldn__ live without because it fits in there. Makes you who you are and the thought of him gone__o more__akes your chest tighten up and maybe this is your fairytale. Maybe this is your castle.You could get it all on a shiny piece of glass with wooden stools and a neverending blooming gardenbut that__ not yours. This is yours. The cracks and the faults, the ugly words in the winterwalking home alone and angrybut falling asleep thinking you love him.This is your fairy tale. The quiet in the hallway, wishing for him to turn around, tell you to stay, tell you to please don__ go I need youlike you need meand maybe it__ not a Jane Austen novel but this is your novel and your castleand you can run from it your whole life but this is herein front of you.Maybe nurture it?Sweet girl, maybe close the world off and look at him for an houror two.This is your fairy. It ain__ perfect and it ain__ honey sweet with roses on the bed.It__ real and raw and ugly at times. But this is your love. Don__ throw it away searching for someone else__ love. Don__ be greedy. Instead, shelter it. Protect it. Capture every second of easy, pull through every storm of hardship. And when you can, look at him, lying next to you, trusting you not to harm him. Trusting you not to go. Be someone__ someone for someone.Be that someone for him.That__ your fairy tale. This is your castle.Now move in. Build a home. Build a house. Build a safety around things you love. It__ yours if you make it so.Welcome home, sweet girl, it will be all be fine.

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

THE MOTH AND THE BUTTERFLYWhen the sun rises over the horizon,the butterfly emerges to dance in its brilliant light.It flickers its colorful wings with euphoria,To celebrate all the beauty foundin the majestic garden of life.When the moon arrives in the darkness,The moth appears at the disappearance of sunlight.It flickers its pale wings as it shakes from its deep slumber,To go search for foodTo carry it through the night.The moth prefers the moon and detests the sun,while the butterfly loves the sun and hides from the moon.Every living creature responds to light,But depending on the amount of light you have inside,Determines which lamp in the skyYour heart will swoon. Poetry by Suzy Kassem

The garden was full of sorrowSongbirds and unusual winds whistled a rhymeClouds caused to appear and cast down darknessFor this was the first day the sun didn't shine

The master of the garden is the one who waters it, trims the branches, plants the seeds, and pulls the weeds. If you merely stroll through the garden, you are but an acolyte.