Douglas William Jerrold Quotes

Friends, the soil is poor, we must sow seeds in plenty for us to garner even modest harvests.

The miracle of the seed and the soil is not available by affirmation; it is only available by labor.

The richest soil, if uncultivated, produces the rankest weeds.

Where grows?--where grows it not? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil.

From one seed a whole handful: that was what it meant to say the bounty of the earth.

Who sows a field, or trains a flower, Or plants at tree, is more than all.

It is only the farmer who faithfully plants seeds in the Spring, who reaps a harvest in the Autumn.

Take rest; a field that has rested gives a beautiful crop.

The glory of gardening: hands in the dirt, head in the sun, heart with nature. To nurture a garden is to feed not just on the body, but the soul.

It is like the seed put in the soil - the more one sows, the greater the harvest.

With the advent of spring and beginning of the new harvest season the creators of abundance, our peasants, come out to the fields to sow with good aspirations and hopes.

The Lord grant we may all be tillers of the soil.

Soil is a living ecosystem, and is a farmer's most precious asset. A farmer's productive capacity is directly related to the health of his or her soil.

Illinois surpasses every other spot of equal extent upon the face of the globe in fertility of soil and in the proportionable amount of the same which is sufficiently level for actual cultivation.

The land is the finest for cultivation that I ever in my life set foot upon. Were our own industrious farmers to settle here, they would soon transform this wilderness into a Paradise where no man need ever go hungry….Never have I beheld such a rich and pleasant land.

Agriculture is our wisest pursuit, because it will in the end contribute most to real wealth, good morals, and happiness.

Come with us to the field, or go with our brothers to the sea and cast your net. For the land and the sea shall be bountiful to you even as to us.

All the seasons run their race In this quiet resting-place; Peach, and apricot, and fig Here will ripen, and grow big; Here is store and overplus - More had not Alcinous!

All man has to do is cooperate with the big forces, the sun, the rain, the growing urge. Seeds sprout, stems grow, leaves spread in the sunlight. Man plants, weeds, cultivates and harvests. It sounds simple, and it is simple, with the simplicity of great truths.

There would be no advantage to be gained by sowing a field of wheat if the harvest did not return more than was sown.

I myself am quite absorbed by the delicate yellow, delicate soft green, delicate violet of a ploughed and weeded piece of soil.

The summer has seized you, as when, last month in Amalfi, I saw lemons as large as your desk-side globe-that miniature map of the world-and I could mention, too, the market stalls of mushrooms and garlic bugs all engorged. Or I even think of the orchard next door, where the berries are done and the apples are beginning to swell. And once, with our first backyard,I remember I planted an acre of yellow beans we couldn't eat.

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.

I bought an ant farm. I don't know where I am going to get a tractor that small!