Mabel Osgood Wright Quotes

Why has no one written a November rhapsody with plenty of lilt and swing? The poets who are moved at all by this month seem only stirred to lamentation, giving us year end and 'melancholy days' remarks, thereby showing that theory is stronger than observation among the rhyming brotherhood, or else that they have chronic indigestion and no gardens to stimulate them.

It doesn't so much matter what one loves. To love is the transfiguring thing.

What's the good of having news an' ye must coop it? It's like cold veal pie upon the chest for supper, the same being over old, under done, and dry o' gravy.

Why is it that so many people think that charity consists in giving away merely what they cannot use instead of the article the recipient needs?

Imagine how terrifying it would be if we had to decide the beginnings of things for ourselves: as to what race we should belong, what sex, and all that, instead of placidly coming out of unconsciousness to find it all arranged!

Even as human vitality is at its lowest ebb in the early morning, so it is with plant life in the early spring.

The various earth odors all have a separate tale to tell, and the leaf mold of the woods bears a wholly different fragrance from that of the soil under pasture turf, or the breath that the garden gives off in great sighs of relief when it is relaxed and refreshed by a summer shower.

Surely there is no greater garden for human-nature study than the flotsam and jetsam of the hospital.

In the city at best one lives the life of others, the life of the shop, the street, the crowd, while in the country one must live one's own life.

What is life worth if one has nothing to give away? This lack, it seems to me, must be the sharpest pang of poverty.

Neither a garden nor a gardener can be made in one year, nor in one generation even.

Let everyone who makes garden plans frequently insert the letters C.P. in them as a reminder, the same standing for climate permitting.