Claude Monet Quotes

All gardening is landscape painting,' said Alexander Pope.

To plant and maintain a flower border, with a good scheme for colour, is by no means the easy thing that is commonly supposed.

Let no one think that real gardening is a bucolic and meditative occupation. It is an insatiable passion, like everything else to which a man gives his heart.

To plant a garden is the chief of the arts of peace.

The most noteworthy thing about gardeners is that they are always optimistic, always enterprising, and never satisfied. They always look forward to doing something better than they have ever done before.

Nothing is more completely the child of art than a garden.

Gardening gives one back a sense of proportion about everything - except itself.

Gardening is one of the rewards of middle age, when one is ready for an impersonal passion, a passion that demands patience, acute awareness of a world outside oneself, and the power to keep on growing through all the times of drought, through the cold snows, towards those moments of pure joy when all failures are forgotten and the plum tree flowers.

I am good at only two things, and those are gardening and painting.

If, I can someday see M. Claude Monet's garden, I feel sure that I shall see something that is not so much a garden of flowers as of colours and tones, less an old-fashioned flower garden than a colour garden, so to speak, one that achieves an effect not entirely nature's, because it was planted so that only the flowers with matching colours will bloom at the same time, harmonized in an infinite stretch of blue or pink.

The good Husbandman may pluck His rose & gather in His lily.

I work at my garden all the time and with love. What I need most are flowers, always. My heart is forever in Giverny.

You can grow flowers from where dirt use to be.

But though an old man, I am but a young gardener.

Our finest flowers are often weeds transplanted.

He domesticated and developed the native wild flowers. He had one hill-side solidly clad with that low-growing purple verbena which mats over the hills of New Mexico. It was like a great violet velvet mantle thrown down in the sun; all the shades that the dyers and weavers of Italy and France strove for through centuries, the violet that is full of rose colour and is yet not lavender; the blue that becomes almost pink and then retreats again into sea-dark purple—the true Episcopal colour and countless variations of it.

That small circle of earth became a second home to both of us. Gardening boring? Never! It has surprise, tragedy, startling developments - a soap opera growing out of the ground. I'd forgotten that tremolo of expectation produced by a tiny forest of sprouts.

The trouble with gardening is that is does not remain an avocation. It becomes an obsession.

roses are the only flowers at garden-parties; the only flowers that everybody is certain of knowing.

This garden is no metaphor - more a task that swallows you into itself, earth using, as always, everything it can.

Gardens were before gardeners, and but some hours after the earth.

The man who wants a garden fair, or small or very big, With flowers growing here and there, Must bend his back and dig. The things are mighty few on earth That wishes can attain. Whate'er we want of any worth We've got to work to gain. It matters not what goal you seek, It's secret here reposes: You've got to dig from week to week To get Results or Roses.

Gardening has compensations out of all proportion to its goals. It is creation in the pure sense.

gardening is a madness, a folly that does not go away with age. Quite the contrary.