To mock the tree-lined highways of our dreaming, Winding to pleasant plains and sunlit hills, Loud-speakers yet may blare 'mid billboards screaming T… - C. J. Dennis

I sometimes think stone is too precious truly, Bronze far too permanent for human clods
Whom men rush in to celebrate unduly: Immortal stuff is for immortal gods
Carved by great artists. Let the celebration Of men be in such stuff as may be pulped;
Reserve the rock for glorious inspiration: Venus to pose, to sculpt.

For many years it has been my habit to divide gardeners into three classes. These are professional gardeners, professional amateur gardeners, and amateur amateur gardeners.

Professional gardeners are usually rather earthy uncommunicative men with a deliberate manner, a slight stoop and the dull-fish-like eye of the confirmed pessimist.