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1 " There are some delightful places in this world which have a sensual charm for the eyes. One loves them with a physical love. We people who are attracted by the countryside cherish fond memories of certain springs, certain woods, certain ponds, certain hills, which have become familiar sights and can touch our hearts like happy events.Sometimes indeed the memory goes back towards a forest glade, or a spot on a river bank or an orchard in blossom, glimpsed only once on a happy day, but preserved in our heart. "
― Guy de Maupassant , Selected Short Stories
2 " The desired Islamic state might be likened to an orchard planted with olive and palm trees that will take a relatively long time to produce fruit. "
― , Uṣūl al Fiqh al Islāmī: Source Methodology in Islamic Jurisprudence
3 " The winter of love is a cellar of empty bins / In an orchard soft with rot." The soft with rot part sounded so familiar, but it took a few moments before she made the connection as to why. " He was mumbling that to me," she said. A clear image of Marcus, gaunt and pale in his dining room deathbed, lit up her brain. She hadn't thought of him like that in so long. " The last time I saw him." " He said it was you," Jackson said, suddenly looking at somber as she felt. " You were going to be those empty bins, once he died. And it was maybe the saddest thing I had ever heard. "
4 " There was something wonderful about the atmosphere at Stony Cross Park. One could easily imagine it as some magical place set in some far-off land. The surrounding forest was so deep and thick as to be primeval in appearance, while the twelve-acre garden behind the manor seemed too perfect to be real. There were groves, glades, ponds, and fountains. It was a garden of many moods, alternating tranquility with colorful tumult. A disciplined garden, every blade of grass precisely clipped, the corners of the box hedges trimmed to knife blade crispness. Hatless, gloveless, and infused with a sudden sense of optimism, Annabelle breathed deeply of the country air. She skirted the edge of the terraced gardens at the back of the manor and followed a graveled path set between raised beds of poppies and geraniums. The atmosphere soon became thick with the perfume of flowers, as the path paralleled a drystone wall covered with tumbles of pink and cream roses.Wandering more slowly, Annabelle crossed through an orchard of ancient pear trees, sculpted by decades into fantastic shapes. Farther off, a canopy of silver birch led to woodland beds that appeared to melt seamlessly into the forest beyond. "
― Lisa Kleypas , Secrets of a Summer Night (Wallflowers, #1)
