Dylan Thomas Quotes

Short boughs, long vintage.

Vnder water, famine; under snow, bread.

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

The strength that I have comes from irrigating the citrus plantation, ploughing in the vineyard, guarding the melon fields at night. I believe that's what gave me the strength.

I love to pick tomatoes at the end of the day, when they're still warm from the sun.

We ought to thank God for that. Yes, the man who tills the land is more worthy of respect than any.

Corne, which is the staffe of life

The majority of us don’t want to be farmers, see farmers, pay farmers, or hear their complaints. Except as straw-chewing figures in children’s books, we don’t quite believe in them anymore

Once you engage with the simple enough business of feeding yourself, of soil and water, weather, season and harvest, it becomes personal. It is about you, your family and friends. Food becomes an aspect of those relationships as well as your intimacy with your plot.

Land!” shouted Thomas. “Is there food?” asked Tubby Ted.

The prayer of the farmer kneeling in his field to weed it, the prayer of the rower kneeling with the stroke of his oar, are true prayers heard throughout nature.

Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with a harvest.

I came to love my rows, my beans, though so many more than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antaeus.

A Song of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms - a song of the soil of fields. A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers handle the pitch-fork; A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk'd maize.

We gather perfect fruit from perfect trees.

One day you are drinking the wine, and they next day you are picking the grapes.

Young man, two are the forces most precious to mankind. The first is Demeter, the Goddess. She is the Earth -- or any name you wish to call her -- and she sustains humanity with solid food. Next came Dionysus, the son of the virgin, bringing the counterpart to bread: wine and the blessings of life's flowing juices. His blood, the blood of the grape, lightens the burden of our mortal misery. Though himself a God, it is his blood we pour out to offer thanks to the Gods. And through him, we are blessed.

The life of the earth comes up with a rush in the springtime. All the wild seeds of weed and thistle, the sprouts of vine and bush and tree, are trying to take the fields. Farmers must fight them with harrow and plow and hoe; they must plant the good seeds quickly.

Recall that whatever lofty things you might accomplish today, you will do them only because you first ate something that grew out of the dirt.

Wine is earth's answer to the sun.

Feel the wrath of wheat!

I know that wine is, above all else, a blessing, a gift of nature, a joy as pure and elemental as the soil and vines and sunshine from which it springs.

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

Let us celebrate the soil. Most men toil that they may own a piece of it; they measure their success in life by their ability to buy it.

Day-colored wine, night-colored wine, wine with purple feet or wine with topaz blood, wine, starry child of earth.