A Quote by Barbara Kingsolver

Once the rains abated, my father's garden thrived in the heat like an unleashed temper. — © Barbara Kingsolver
Once the rains abated, my father's garden thrived in the heat like an unleashed temper.
One does not begin to make a garden until he wants a garden. To want a garden is to be interested in plants, in the winds and rains, in birds and insects, in the warm-smelling earth.
Then all at once in late August's heat, tall leafless stalks crowned with iridescent pink and purple blossoms burst from the purgatory in the earth. This arcane act of nature, though perceived by us as ordinary, is a manifestation of Maya's phantom play, the great immensity expressed in every way. My garden is the universe. I am the universe. I am my garden. All things are the same.
I used to have a short temper. I still have one and when I lose it, it's bad. I think it comes from what you see when you're young. Sometimes it builds from being scared as well. Once you lose it once, you find comfort in losing your temper. It becomes embedded in you.
Everybody knows I got a temper. It's not a temper temper-not an off-the-field temper. It's a competitive temper, wanting to do good. But as far as being a guy who disrupts a lot of things, who doesn't want to listen? Nah, man. That's false. That's false because I'm excelling.
My heart is a garden tired with autumn, Heaped with bending asters and dahlias heavy and dark, In the hazy sunshine, the garden remembers April, The drench of rains and a snow-drop quick and clear as a spark; Daffodils blowing in the cold wind of morning, And golden tulips, goblets holding the rain - The garden will be hushed with snow, forgotten soon, forgotten - After the stillness, will spring come again?
For nearly 2 million years, our ancestors survived and thrived and spread across the planet because they could run other mammals into heat exhaustion.
I love to have fun. I do my own shopping. I do my own yardwork. I like to garden. I like to fish. I like to golf. I'm an outdoorsman. I like to cook. But when I hit the football stadium, I click the switch, because I know I'm there for a job. I get in a whole different mindset when I enter the stadium. But once I leave I'm back to being a father, husband, a friend.
Each day she removes a small portion of the unwanted things in people's lives, though all of it, she thinks, was previously wanted, once useful. She feels the sun scorching the back of her neck. The heat is at its worst now, the rains still a few months away. The task satisfies her. It passes the time.
I am a leader, so leaders always get heat. They're always going against the grain. Jimi Hendrix got heat; Bob Marley got heat; Miles Davis got heat. Every great artist got heat. Heat means you're doing something right.
I am a leader. Leaders always get heat. They're always going against the grain. Jimi Hendrix got heat; Bob Marley got heat; Miles Davis got heat. Every great artist got heat. Heat means you're doing something right.
Father's snoring grows to sound increasingly like a vacuum cleaner in heat.
In those sticky summer nights in South London our windows stay open and our tiny apartment becomes our secret garden. The magic of the secret garden is that it exists in our imagination. There are no limits, no borderlines. The secret garden leads to the marigolds of Mogadishu and the magnolias of Kingston and when the heat turns us sticky and sweet and unwilling to be claimed by defeat we own the night. We own our bodies. We own our lives.
When a garden is used as a place to pause for thought, that is when a Zen garden comes to life. When you contemplate a garden like this it will form as lasting impression on your heart.
It didn’t rain for you, maybe, but it always rains for me. The sky shatters and rains shards of glass.
There is nothing I like better at the end of a hot summer's day than taking a short walk around the garden. You can smell the heat coming up from the earth to meet the cooler night air.
Think of the Father as a spring of life begetting the Son like a river and the Holy Ghost like a sea, for the spring and the river and sea are all one nature. Think of the Father as a root, and of the Son as a branch, and the Spirit as a fruit, for the substance in these three is one. The Father is a sun with the Son as rays and the Holy Ghost as heat.
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