The Secret Garden

You can lose a friend in springtime easier than any other season

One of the new things peo­ple be­gan to find out in the last cen­tury was that thoughts—just mere thoughts—are as pow­er­ful as elec­tric bat­ter­ies—as good for one as sun­light is, or as bad for one as poi­son.

while those whom Mary saw slunk or hur­ried about with ashy and scared faces

you may never get over it as long as you live.

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary,

How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

. It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

It is very sad, now the poor beautiful thing is gone

"Mistress Mary, quite contrary, How does your garden grow? With silver bells, and cockle shells, And marigolds all in a row."

“Dickon,” she said. “You are as nice as Martha said you were. I like you, and you make the fifth per­son. I never thought I should like five peo­ple.”

“I’ve stolen a gar­den,” she said very fast. “It isn’t mine. It isn’t any­body’s. No­body wants it, no­body cares for it, no­body ever goes into it. Per­haps ev­ery­thing is dead in it al­ready; I don’t know.”