Water is more stimulating than wine. Fresh air is more intoxicating than cigarette smoke. Sunlight is more subtle than electric light.
BEVERLEY NICHOLSA 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.
More Beverley Nichols Quotes
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To dig one’s own spade into one’s own earth! Has life anything better to offer than this?
BEVERLEY NICHOLS -
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.
BEVERLEY NICHOLS -
It is only to the gardener that time is a friend, giving each year more than he steals.
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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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We both know, you and I, that if all men were gardeners, the world at last would be at peace.
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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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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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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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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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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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Do you ever find yourself bursting into a sort of lunatic laughter at the sheer prettiness of things?
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To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.
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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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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.
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Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.
BEVERLEY NICHOLS