Every moment of this strange and lovely life from dawn to dusk, is a miracle. Somewhere, always a rose is opening its petals to the dawn. Somewhere, always, a flower is fading in the dusk.
BEVERLEY NICHOLSDo you ever find yourself bursting into a sort of lunatic laughter at the sheer prettiness of things?
More Beverley Nichols Quotes
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A garden without cats, it will be generally agreed, can scarcely deserve to be called a garden at all.
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The ordinary blue pickling cabbage. Set against the blazing blue of the other flowers, it had a bloom and elegance which made it a thing of the greatest delight.
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To dig one’s own spade into one’s own earth! Has life anything better to offer than this?
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Life in the country teaches one that the really stimulating things are the quiet, natural things, and the really wearisome things are the noisy, unnatural things. It is more exciting to stand still than to dance. Silence is more eloquent than speech.
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Water is more stimulating than wine. Fresh air is more intoxicating than cigarette smoke. Sunlight is more subtle than electric light.
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Let us be honest: most of us rather like our cats to have a streak of wickedness. I should not feel quite easy in the company of any cat that walked around the house with a saintly expression.
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Last summer I was staying at a house in Hampshire which was famous for the brilliance and the originality of its gardens. There were many of them, but the most beautiful of all was a walled garden in which every flower was blue.
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As any psychologist will tell you, the worst thing you can possibly do to a woman is to deprive her of a grievance.
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Especially since a garden knows how gay and delightful it can be, even in the very frozen heart of the winter, if you only give it a chance.
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Sooner or later you will find them out; you will discover that they drink, or steal books, or speak sharply to cats. Never trust a man or a woman who is not passionately devoted to geraniums.
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To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.
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There were all the obvious things like delphiniums and acronitums and larkspurs, but the most beautiful blue of all came from the groups of cabbages.
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A gardener is never shut out from his garden, wherever he may be. Its comfort never fails. Though the city may close about him, and the grime and soot descend upon him, he can still wander in his garden, does he but close his eyes.
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Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.
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It is only to the gardener that time is a friend, giving each year more than he steals.
BEVERLEY NICHOLS