“I actually have a punching bag right outside in my garden.”

I love playing Eleven.

Working, for me, is like a gift.

My parents are so amazing, and they’ve travelled around the world with me.

It’s nice to have famous people love you.

I’m quite sarcastic, and I’m funny, but not kind of funny. It’s a weird funny, and some people don’t get me, and some people do.

My family is really proper.

I’m obsessed with working out. I eat like a pig, so it kind of makes up for that.

I could live without my phone. And one thing I’d love to do is experience having the freedom that kids had back in the ’80s.

I feel very lucky. My family and I have worked hard, and I feel very grateful.

My brother’s really well-spoken.

I have two hands: one for me, one for other people.

I am a really great daughter.

I didn’t do school plays… I’ve never done a play in my life, actually. Not even a nativity.

You don’t even realise how much you need Internet, but it really stops you from doing a lot.

With my platform, anyway, I want to try and do good things and want to help people.

I’m very outspoken. I will ask a silly question, but I really am deadly serious. I’m like, ‘I want to know the answer.’

In my garden, after a rainfall, you can faintly, yes, hear the breaking of new blooms.

Money, property and possessions are matter. Happiness, contentment, love are energies. Both are like two gardens of our life and both need to be nurtured regularly.

You shall have all that is in this garden.

People who are close to God cultivate a personal intimacy with Him like a good gardener cultivates beautiful flowers.

We are gardens. We flourish and grow. Despite the rain, despite the snow.

A gardener who cultivates his own garden with his own hands, unites in his own person the three different characters, of landlord, farmer, and labourer. His produce, therefore, should pay him the rent of the first, the profit of the second, and the wages of the third.

A sensitive plant in a garden grew, And the young winds fed it with silver dew, And it opened its fan like leaves to the light, and closed them beneath the kisses of night.

And Spring arose on the garden fair, Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere; And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest.