Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.

[W]ithout hard work, nothing grows but weeds.

You’re never going to go. Why would you go? It’s a disgusting place. It’s always wet even when it’s dry. There’s nothing there. Farmers aren’t really people, you know this. They’re just necessary, we need somebody to kill cows.

Unless you remove the weeds, a good crop will be ruined.

Bad herdsmen waste the flocks which thou hast left behind.

Weeds want no sowing.

You might not think it, but it was always the farmers who raised hell in this country. They worked for themselves, were self-reliant, and weren’t about to take shit from anybody. But then some clever bastard figured out how to make crops inedible. My family’s been doing industrial farming for forty years and all it produces is debt, pollution, and water shortages. It ruins the land and the people on it.

The present condition of the farmers and labourers of this country is the severest condemnation of the Corn-laws that can possibly be produced...let the farmer perfectly understand that his prosperity depends upon that of his customers—that the insane policy of this House has been to ruin his customers, and that acts of Parliament to keep up prices are mere frauds to put rents into the landlords' pockets, and enable him to juggle his tenants.

5967. You must not hope to reap Wheat, where you sow'd none.

No gardener, no garden!

Your topsoil's a disaster area — it's starved for nitrogen, it's been fertilized for years by the criminally insane, and whatever thief put in your irrigation system ought to be flogged through the fleet.

You know what that means? That means no more cows.

Where there are no peasants there are no supplies.

And when that crop grew, and was harvested, no man had crumbled a hot clod in his fingers and let the earth sift past his fingertips. No man had touched the seed, or lusted for the growth. Men ate what they had not raised, had no connection with the bread. The land bore under iron, and under iron gradually died; for it was not loved or hated, it had no prayers or curses.