I’m still on the road to discovery
By Deb Julienne

 Ever heard of the “overnight” success?

Yeah, that’s not me…not unless you take into consideration that it took me eighteen + years to finally get a book contract.

Work, life, family, health issues, you name it; it got in my way, until now.

Today I received the cover for my debut book “Sex, Lies, and Beauty Aids” and I couldn’t be happier--well okay, I lied, I will be happier when it’s finally released.

I’ve already gone through the pre-edits…only to discover I’m a “was” whore…can you say passive? See, I’m learning...and we won’t even go into the other over used words, now changed.

When I think back to when I started writing and the journey it’s taken me on…and yes, I got lost, several times, but the road to discovery…I honestly don’t think I’d change a thing.

In a perfect world we’d know what we need to know to get there. In my world getting lost takes you on some seriously hysterical detours. Needless to say, I am thrilled to be where I am now.

I’ve met some of the most wonderful people on this path, friends I never want to be without. We’ve had fun moments, sad moments, crazy moments and lots of laughs and for those lovely people, I am truly blessed.

I want to say "Thank You" to everyone who helped me along the way.

More to time as I go through the editing process.

You can find me on:

Twitter: @debjulienne

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/debjulienne/

 Blurb for Book I: Sex, Lies, and Beauty Aids
Sabrina Thompson is the editor in charge of finding and sharing Natural Beauty Secrets for articles in Skin Deep Magazine. Her perfect little world crumbles when her new boss informs her she will have to take on another column or lose her job. Imagine her surprise when she discovers her new job is offering advice for the Love and Sex column. What does a twenty-four year old virgin know about Love or Sex, when she's never been on a third date?
Trent Wellington is playing one final game of “Sexcapades” with his twin brother. Only this time the con is on the family. While Travis is drying out, Trent assumes his brother’s identity in order to save the magazine. Trent knows about Sabrina’s lack of experience and plans to be her practice toy until Sabrina discovers she’s been conned.
What happens on the road to "Educating Sabrina" is a wild and bumpy ride. Getting even has never been so much fun.

Old Dogs and Blue Fuzzy Slippers

  by Ginger Chambers

I hope I won't be shown the virtual door because my favorite pair of slippers are blue and fuzzy!  If it's any help, they're a shade of pale blue that looks very pretty with pink.  (waits to be tossed out) (isn't) (big smile) Thank you!  My blue slippers and I have been together for quite awhile. Even written several books together. Let me prop my feet up, cross my ankles properly as shown in your photo, and tell you a little story.

I'm sure you've all heard the saying, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." Well, don't believe it. You can. I'm the "old dog" and the "new trick" is e-publishing.  Now wait! Wait! Don't everyone rush off in horror. It's not going to be THAT bad. I'm not going to try to teach you anything while we're enjoying having our feet up. I'm just saying that it can be done. "Old dog" here is doing it! And, believe me, if I can do it, you can do it...if you haven't already!

All of my writing life has been in Category Romance. I loved reading it before I started writing, and I have loved (almost) every moment of writing it for the past 30-odd years. I'm a fairly slow writer, so that time accounts for 33 or so books. And as I said, all Category. I'm a sucker for a HappyEverAfter ending. Gets me every time. Only, once the books had their moment in the sun (2 to 4 weeks on store bookshelves), that was it. The only way the book stayed alive after that was at Used Book Stores, with the pages growing shabby and torn from use, and the cover fading... 

Now we have pixels and readers and Fires and Pads and Nooks and cell phones. And all those old books--the ones we wrote and the ones we once read--can be new again! With authors having final say on content and covers! Oh, joyous day! No more hero who looks like a vampire as he bends to 'kiss' the heroine's neck (and it's not a vampire book), no more "But my heroine is a blond, not a redhead!" Or my favorite, she's shown bursting out of a D-cup when she has trouble filling a B-cup in the story.

Which brings us to the event that brings this all together and is happening at this very minute. Today is the launch of LOVE ME SOME COWBOY! A boxed set of 5 full novels by 5 best-selling authors who have taken the e-publishing bull by the horns and wrestled it into submission. Yay, us!  Jean Brashear, Day Leclaire, Barbara McMahon, Lisa Mondello, and Ginger Chambers. All at the bargain price of 99¢  ($.99) for the boxed set. My contribution, Love, Texas, is my first attempt at self-publishing at all the usual e-suspects: Kindle, Apple, Nook, Kobo, Smashwords. What an experience! And soon there will be another, Call It Love, which was my first Candlelight Ecstasy Romance back in 1982. After that, another, then another... Once this gal gets going, ya can't stop her! I'm loving this new world for writers. 

There's a lot more to tell, but a little story is just that--little. So I'll uncross my ankles, put my fuzzy slippers on the floor, and get back to work. Thanks to all of you for listening.


Things I Think About, Odd People, Huh?

Posted by Mary Ricksen | 7:09 PM | 8 comments »

I don't think I'm crazy. I might have some quirk that people notice, but pretty much I feel I am in the realm of normal. So how about you? Do you look at people and wonder what the hey? Is he whacked? Too may Margaritas maybe? Wrong medication?
What makes people have a sense of entitlement? Why do families fight? Why is there a nut in every family? Who took the last cookie and why can't you admit to it?
I think about these things, it helps me to not think about the things that really bother me.

I saw a video of a police artist drawing women's picture's. He drew one from a bystander and one from the description of the woman herself. The results were astonishing. The women described themselves in a way that portrayed them much more unattractive then they actually were, in every single case. So what does that say about self image? I thought I was the only one who saw a fat person in the mirror no matter what I weigh! Don't it make you want to say, Huh?

Bad Hair Days and Other Stuff

Posted by Nightingale | 9:04 AM | 5 comments »

I hate my hair.  It's baby fine and breaks before it gets past chin length.  So!  I decided upon a hairy adventure.  I bought a shoulder length human hair full lace wig.  Now that I had it, what to do with it.  I wanted low lights, took it to a beautician I knew and trusted.  She charged me $185 to put a few streaks in the wig.  After I recovered from that shock, my new hair and I set off to be united.

The process sounds daunting.  First they put tape below your hairline, then add some glue to the tape.  Next, the wig is applied.  The wigs generally are custom made to fit the head.  I was amazed at the results.  You cannot tell that it is a wig, and it can be pulled up and worn in a high ponytail.  I am very proud of my new tresses.  No pix except in my cell phone.  And it is very convenient.  Just brush and go.  Every two weeks, it is removed, cleaned and reapplied.

We'll see how long I love it or if it ends up on Ebay as a friend of mine predicted.

This has nothing to do with hair, but I wanted to post Bianca's shiny brand new banner.

Excerpt from On Wings of Desire:

The stench of Hell burned Salseph’s nostrils.  Lost Souls¸ how he hated to return home.  For all his trials on Earth, he preferred the human realm to this insufferable place.  In the mortal plane, he could, with considerable effort and pain, divest himself of his wings, and feel as if he belonged—at least for a time.

Evolerzzal, a slimy glob of green flesh, grabbed Seph’s shoulder as he passed into the gloom of the Demon Realm.  “Well, if it isn’t Salseph the Beautiful.  What are you doing here amongst us humble creatures?”  A clawed hand beckoned Charzzel, a demon of the Second Order.  “Look who’s come home.”

Seph shrugged free, arched his wings.  The dim, smoky light refracted on his feathers, and the movement immediately drew the attention of every demon in sight.  His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching.  He yearned to drive his fist into the grotesque face and take to the air, but it wasn’t Evolz’s fault the demons hated Seph.  Paimon had insured that Salseph was an oddity, a freak.  His appearance and the majestic wings set him apart from the others of his kind.  Hell, there were no others of his kind.  In all of Perdition, he was the only demon who looked like an angel.  His face was handsome, his body lean and muscled—the body of a man, not a monstrosity—his blond hair thick and silky.

“I smell angel,” a low-ranking atrocity shouted, his high-pitched voice rasping on Seph’s nerves.

The demons stank of brimstone and ash.  Salseph’s Creator had only missed one detail in replicating a celestial being.  Like an angel, Seph possessed an individual, mysterious scent, the airy fragrance part of his allure.  Unlike an angel, Salseph had no sigil.   A sigil, the angel’s name in Malachim script, was branded in his palm at his creation.  Paimon did not have the ability to bequeath a sigil to his demon son.  The fallen angel had, however, created Seph with an irresistible sexual magnetism.

A disgustingly ugly brute bared his fangs.  A laugh rumbled from the creature’s slavering maw.  He stumbled into Seph, crushing one of the long white feathers trailing the ash-gray ground.  “Hello, Salseph.”  Two taloned fingers drifted down the feathered arch.  “Wish I had pretty wings.”

Seph flinched from the malicious caress, folding his wings in a tighter arch.  The creature chuckled, and anger ground Salseph’s good intentions to dust.   When he landed, he’d planned to hurry to his cave, avoiding another senseless confrontation with his brethren.  The fiends detested him as much as he abhorred them.  It was an effort of will to resist a scathing retort.

“I think he’s hideous,” a demon in the shadows called.  “Angels are our enemies.  Every time I look at Paimon’s favorite, I want to draw sword.”

Jealousy and envy gleamed in Evolz’s yellow eyes.  The demon reeked of the Pit.  Sulfur wasn’t an enticing perfume.  “Now, who would want to spit our lovely Salseph on a sword?”

“Let me pass.” Seph would have shouldered by Evolz, but touching the creature repulsed him.

“Coming home from another assignment?” Evolz smirked.

Seph refused to give the other demon the satisfaction of a reply.  He was returning from another demeaning mission with his stomach in a knot and his heart bleeding for a poor human woman whose only sin was falling in love with him.

“Did you eat her baby or pump a little half-demon into her womb?”  Evolz leered, his glob of a head tilted to the side, his hairy ears wagging.

“I don’t consume human flesh.  Now, step aside.”

“Or you’ll do what?  Report me to Paimon?”

Seph flared his wings, striking the demon and sweeping Evolerzzal into a stumbling retreat.  “Sorry, Evolz.”  He drove his wings down hard, rising straight into the sultry, close air.  Voice dripping sarcasm, he said, “I forget how powerful I really am.”

He hovered above the gross blob, his condescending smile goading Evolz to react.  The demon glared at him but said nothing, a quick comeback beyond his limited mental capacity.  Why were they all so fiendish?   One of the monsters tried to capture his ankle.  Laughing, he flew higher and, still chuckling, soared toward home.  The place I hide.  He’d never thought of the dim stone cavern as home.  His heart stuttered over a painful beat.  He had no home and belonged nowhere.



Words of Wisdom from Nancy Knight, Editor
Well, here we are again. Staring at the computer. Today’s the day you promised yourself you’d send that manuscript off. So what have you been doing? What should you have been doing? Before you send that ms. off, you should take a look one more time in your word processing program for potential problems, very carefully re-read your first few pages, re-read your synopsis and then look for stupid stuff.
Today’s word-processing programs are very sophisticated. Microsoft Word, for instance, will underline mis-spelled words in red, underline possible grammatical errors in green and underline homonyms in case you picked the wrong one. The programs do these things for a reason . . . to help you. Paying attention to these marked errors may just be the saving grace for your manuscript. If I get a ms. with “they’re” in place of there or their, along with a passel of other mistakes, I’m not likely to trust your writing at all. If you make a lot of grammatical errors, are you careful about your research? How can I know? If I get a clean ms. and one with too many grammatical errors, which one do you think I should take? Let’s see . . . I’ll take the one with fewer errors. Sounds simple, right? For the most part, it is. Many times I get a story with really great potential (Read: Nancy loves, loves, loves this ms.) but the number of spelling and grammatical errors is just daunting. So when your word processor tells you there’s an error—do something about it.
You should always re-read the first five pages very carefully before you send your ms. to an editor or agent. Those five pages (maybe less) might be all the editor reads before rejecting your submission. Why? Time is limited. I talked to another editor last summer who works for a traditional NY publisher. They receive between 800 and 1000 unsolicited ms. a month. Once a month, they closet themselves in a room with all those subs and go through them. Yes, that’s right. They go through all of them. This editor said they start opening envelopes (or e-mails) and read a few lines. If the story doesn’t catch their interest within a few lines, it’s an automatic rejection. Sometimes the editor might realize that the ms. isn’t her cup of tea and—if it’s good enough—pass it along to someone who might like that particular sub-genre. Note: the key words in that last sentence were “if it’s good enough.” That means, no spelling or grammatical errors, a reasonably interesting opening, proper format, etc. Your book should start when the primary character’s life changes irrevocably. Don’t give me ten or fifteen pages of stuff leading up to that moment. Get to the point. Grab my interest immediately. Oh, my editor friend also said that if the ms. was her type of book and it caught her interest, she’d put it in a separate pile to read more of later. Sounds brutal, I know. But the harsh truth is that an editor’s time for reading unsolicited subs is extremely limited. Don’t limit your chances by sending less than your best.
The third item to check off your list is the synopsis. Read it slowly, as if you’ve never seen it before. Make sure you’ve included all the pertinent information. Is your structure clear and concise? Have you told the editor/agent what the primary conflict is? Have you given enough information to make him or her love your protagonist? If you’ve recently revised your synopsis, try to read for missing information that needs to be there.  Look for holes in the plot. Is the story told in a simple narrative style? Have you told the complete story—including the ending. I can’t tell you how many subs I get wherein the synopsis doesn’t reveal the ending. No editor is going to buy a pig in a poke. You must tell the story and the ending.
Finally, read it again for stupid stuff. You can interpret stupid stuff in a couple of ways. It could mean that you have tried, in your synopsis, to be cutesy. That doesn’t always work. It can be annoying. Very annoying. It you include those kinds of elements, get an outside, unbiased opinion to see if they work. Unbiased doesn’t mean your mama or your spouse or your best friend. I once received a ms. that had a diagonal red sash that began in the lower left corner of the ms. and continued to the top right corner. The sash said, “Copyright by _______.” That’s a really childish thing to do. What editor in his or her right mind is going to steal a manuscript? Generally speaking, those people don’t need to worry about having their ms. stolen. In my experience, it’s the worst writers who are the most concerned about someone stealing their books. Finally, there are writers who bury a phrase within the ms. just to see if the editor actually read the ms. Or, in the case of a hard-copy submission, maybe the writer will turn a page backwards to see if the editor read that far. Skip that crazy stuff. It just makes you seem juvenile.
My last piece of advice to you is this: Submit, submit, submit. After you’ve submitted to three or four publishers and all have rejected the ms., re-read their comments (if any) and decide if you need to re-write before sending your precious out again.
By the way, you can always submit to me. (novelkid@aol.com) I’ll look at any of the romance genres, suspense, thrillers, YA, inspirational, horror and mystery. I’m not really interested in non-fiction, so don’t send any non-fiction. But I am totally passionate about a really great YA . . . well, okay  . . . great fiction. I’m waiting to read yours!

Nancy Knight is a multi-published author. She has been part of Belle Books and is now executive editor for Gilded Dragonfly Books.  Nancy edited their first anthology Carousel Déjà vu.
Look for her visit as an author! We will reveal secrets. 


*This piece is reposted from my wordpress blog. I hope you enjoy your garden tour and a Happy Mother's Day to all.
iris_2 smaller
The lighting this morning was exquisite and Elise took some pics of the garden. Now it’s pouring rain again and thundering, but for a time, it was heavenly. So join me for a tour of my lovely May Garden. I think May is the most exquisite time of year. Balm for the soul.~
“I hope some day to meet God, because I want to thank Him for the flowers.” ~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com
If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower inspring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom. ~Terri Guillemets
(***A shorter form of iris)
No two gardens are the same.  No two days are the same in one garden.  ~Hugh Johnson
wood hyacinths from Uncle Houston
***Wood hyacinths given to me by my late Great Uncle Houston, like fairy bells.
Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.  ~Walt Whitman
From an aunt, long ago:  “Death has come for me many times but finds me always in my lovely garden and leaves me there, I think, as an excuse to return.”  ~Robert Brault
tulip_pink and white stripedMany things grow in the garden that were never sown there.  ~Thomas Fuller,Gnomologia, 1732
My garden is my favorite teacher.  ~Betsy Cañas Garmon,www.wildthymecreative.com
Shall we compare our hearts to a garden —
with beautiful blooms, straggling weeds,
swooping birds and sunshine, rain —
and most importantly, seeds.
~Terri Guillemets
(Late season multi-colored Tulips)
I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself.  And I find sufficient purpose for my day.  ~Robert Brault
tulips late seasonThe kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.
~Dorothy Frances Gurney, “Garden Thoughts”
Gardening is civil and social, but it wants the vigor and freedom of the forest and the outlaw.  ~Henry David Thoreau
Where man sees but withered leaves,
God sees sweet flowers growing.
~Albert Laighton
(Late season tulips that are just gorgeous)
That God once loved a garden we learn in Holy writ.
And seeing gardens in the Spring I well can credit it.
~Winifred Mary Letts
tulips against the barnAnd Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth’s dark breast rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. ~Percy Bysshe Shelley, “The Sensitive Plant
Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.  ~Ellis Peters
Spring is sooner recognized by plants than by men.  ~Chinese Proverb
(***Tulips with our old red barn in the background)
The naked earth is warm with Spring,
And with green grass and bursting trees
Leans to the sun’s kiss glorying,
And quivers in the sunny breeze.
~Julian Grenfell
poppy_ lovelyI think that no matter how old or infirm I may become, I will always plant a large garden in the spring.  Who can resist the feelings of hope and joy that one gets from participating in nature’s rebirth?  ~Edward Giobbi
Spring has returned.  The Earth is like a child that knows poems.  ~Rainer Maria Rilke
(Heirloom orange-red poppies that have bloomed every May here forever)
The sun has come out… and the air is vivid with spring light. ~Byron Caldwell Smith, letter to Kate Stephens
Images from my May garden by daughter Elise

My latest release, MOTHER’S DAY BABIES, is coming very appropriately at a time when we celebrate Mother’s Day.

Available for 99 cents at Amazon.com,  http://tinyurl.com/cz3v5a8

This book is dedicated to the mothers we celebrate and those we remember with love on Mother's Day.

Widowed for seven years, Barbara Ramsay lives and breathes for her five grownup daughters and their babies. She's also used to chatting over the phone with her good friend, Lou. But why has he invited her to come to Paris with his TV Network crew?

Powerful News Director, Lou Roland is certainly not marriage material, yet he has suddenly decided he wants Barbara in his arms. Not an easy task when his pretty confidante from Kentucky proves so difficult to date--unless he follows her rules. Can the over-fifty confirmed bachelor and the widow loyal to her husband's memory find true love and share a future?

Mother’s Day Babies also delves into the controversial subject of surrogate mother.
Although many TV series—the most famous being Friends—played on that theme, I never met a surrogate mother. Have you?

But the theme interested me. I used it in this book and analyzed the feelings of the young surrogate mother, those of her parents, and those of the couple hiring her.

Let the hero, Lou Roland, the surrogate mother’s dad, tells you his feelings.

Like a drunken zombie, Lou followed the gurney to the big door marked DELIVERY. He’d never attended a delivery and didn’t know what to do, where to go.

“You can’t continue, sir. Only the husband is allowed in there. Parents should go to the waiting room. We’ll inform you when we have news.” The big door closed behind his daughter and future grandsons.
There was no loving husband. Only a sleazeball who’d taken advantage of his daughter’s stupidity. Rooted in place, he fisted his hands against his sides and stared at the word, DELIVERY.
His heart had somersaulted when he’d heard she was expecting twins. Two little boys. He’d always wished he could have a son. An unexpected joy had trumpeted inside him. He’d taken a step forward, ready to forgive and help for the sake of two innocent babies. And then his new hopes pummeled and crushed at Monica’s next words. A surrogate mother.
“Lou,” Barbara grabbed his arm and tugged him away.

“Let’s go.” Deep in his thoughts and dejection, he let her draw him to the waiting room.
“A surrogate mother,” he repeated as he slumped onto a chair. “What does it mean, Barbara? Why has she sold her body to carry other people’s children? Why has she done such a crazy thing? Why waste her figure and risk her health for strangers?” He torpedoed every question without waiting for answers.
Sitting on the sofa close by, Barbara held his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t torture yourself. Maybe she had her reasons at the time. Maybe she needed the money. She’ll have to explain.”
“I’ve never denied her money. Why?” He raked and pulled at his hair with nervous fingers. If he kept at it, he’d soon be bald.
“I don’t know. We can’t judge her without listening to her.”
“What am I supposed to do now? Surrogate!” he muttered under his breath. “You’re a woman. Tell me. What does this word entail?” Unable to remain confined in his chair, he sprang up and paced the room.
“I’m not sure myself. I read an article about it in a woman’s magazine. With artificial insemination, the male’s sperm is used to impregnate the surrogate mother by direct deposit into the female’s reproductive tract.” Her calm tone contrasted with the worried frown knitting her forehead.
Lou stopped in his tracks next to the side table and banged on it. “I hope she didn’t.” His mind revolted at the mention of the clinical words. Revulsion stirred his last meal in his stomach. “For heaven’s sake, shouldn’t a child’s creation be the product of marriage, or at least of a man and a woman’s love or attraction for each other?”
“Of course, I agree with you. I’m just telling you what I remember from the article on surrogacy. The other type is when the egg resulting from a couple’s sperm and ovule is implanted in the surrogate mother—”
“So my daughter is just a paid container? Is that what you’re saying?” Raw pain contorted his insides. “In that case, she can’t be my daughter. No daughter could ever do that to her father.”
Barbara stood and wrapped her arms around him. “You’re hurting, Lou. I hate to see you suffering so much, but let’s not judge her. She looked so pretty and vulnerable in that bed.”

“Her mother was pretty too and knew how to use her beauty to manipulate everyone. If only she’d had a tenth of your integrity and compassion,” he growled, cursing the events that had interrupted the beginning of his new relationship with Barbara.

How on Earth had sperm and insemination replaced kiss and feelings in their conversation? To think Barbara had melted in his arms the night before, and now they were discussing the subject most apt to smother any passion they felt.

For a chance to win a copy of MOTHER’S DAY BABIES, let me know your opinion about surrogacy.
About the Author: From chemistry in the lab to chemistry between people.
As a director of chemistry, Mona Risk traveled to more than sixty countries on business or vacation. To relax from her hectic schedule, she avidly read romance novels and mentally plotted her own books. Eventually she left a scientific career to share with readers the many stories brewing in her head. Mona likes to set her stories in the fascinating places she visits.

Mona Risk’s books won Best Romance Novel of the Year at Preditors & Editors; Best Contemporary Romances at Readers Favorite; Epic Award Finalists; and many stellar reviews.

 Other books in The Holiday Babies Series:

VALENTINE BABIES    http://tinyurl.com/avb2kbu
CHRISTMAS BABIES  http://tinyurl.com/burgd9j
BABIES IN THE BARGAIN   http://tinyurl.com/6mcd6e3

Mona Risk Amazon Page of books http://tinyurl.com/7mlcjtx

‘Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram;
The marigold, that goes to bed wi’ the sun,
and with him rise weeping.’ ~Shakespeare, Winter’s Tale
If you set it,
the cats will eat it,
If you sow it,
the cats don’t know it.
~Philip Miller, The Gardener’s Dictionary, Referring to Catnip
Salt is a preservative. It really holds flavor. For example, if you chop up some fresh herbs, or even just garlic, the salt will extract the moisture and preserve the flavor. ~ Sally Schneider
The Herbs ought to be distilled when they are in their greatest vigor, and so ought the Flowers also. ~Nicholas Culpeper
The intense perfumes of the wild herbs as we trod them underfoot made us feel almost drunk. ~Jacqueline du Pre
I plant rosemary all over the garden, so pleasant is it to know that at every few steps one may draw the kindly branchlets through one’s hand, and have the enjoyment of their incomparable incense; and I grow it against walls, so that the sun may draw out its inexhaustible sweetness to greet me as I pass ….
-  Gertrude Jekyll
“There’s fennel for you, and columbines; there’s rue for you: and here’s some for me; we may call it herb of grace o’ Sundays. O! you must wear your rue with a difference.  There’s a daisy; I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died.” ~Shakespeare, Hamlet
Thine eyes are springs in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen. Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. ~William C. Bryant
Waters are distilled out of Herbs, Flowers, Fruits, and Roots.
~Nicholas Culpeper
“We have finally started to notice that there is real curative value in local herbs and remedies. In fact, we are also becoming aware that there are little or no side effects to most natural remedies, and that they are often more effective than Western medicine.”  ~Anne Wilson Schaef
The basil tuft, that waves
Its fragrant blossom over graves.
~Thomas Moore, Lalla Rookhm, Light of the Harem
“The herb that can’t be got is the one that heals.” ~ Irish Saying
See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet-slug-a-bed, and see The dew-bespangling herb and tree. ~ Herrick, Robert ~Corinna’s Going a Maying
As for rosemary, I let it run all over my garden walls, not
only because my bees love it but because it is the herb
sacred to remembrance and to friendship, whence a
sprig of it hath a dumb language.
-  Sir Thomas Moore
Eat leeks in oile and ramsines in May,
And all the year after physicians may play.
(Ramsines were old-fashioned broad-leafed leeks.)
My gardens sweet, enclosed with walles strong, embarked with benches to sytt and take my rest. The Knotts so enknotted, it cannot be exprest. With arbours and alys so pleasant and so dulce, the pestylant ayers with flavours to repulse. ~Thomas Cavendish, 1532.
When daisies pied and violets blue, and lady-smocks all silver white. And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, do paint the meadows with delight. ~William Shakespeare, 1595.
Women with child that eat quinces will bear wise children. ~Dodoens, 1578.
Gardening with herbs, which is becoming increasingly popular, is indulged in by those who like subtlety in their plants in preference to brilliance.
-   Helen Morgenthau Fox
And because the Breath of Flowers is farre Sweeter in the Aire (where it comes and Gose, like the Warbling of Musick) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for delight, than to know what be the Flowers and the Plants that doe best perfume the Aire. ~ Francis Bacon, 1625
Caesar….saith, that all the Britons do colour themselves with Woad, which giveth a blew colour… John Gerard, 1597
You have got to own your days and live them, each one of them, every one of them, or else the years go right by and none of them belong to you. ~Herb Gardner
Once you get people laughing, they’re listening and you can tell them almost anything. ~ Herb Gardner
(***These last two quotes snuck in here because his name is Herb Gardner, so he came up on my search and I liked them.)
Would You Marry Me?
“According to old wives’ tales, borage was sometimes
smuggled into the drink of  prospective husbands
to give them the courage to propose marriage.”
-  Mary Campbell, A Basket of Herbs
As Rosemary is to the Spirit, so Lavender is to the Soul.
-  Anonymous
As for the garden of mint, the very smell of it alone recovers and refreshes our spirits, as the taste stirs up our appetite for meat. ~   Pliny the Elder
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
Be reckoned but with herbs and flowers?
-  Andrew Marvel
How I would love to be transported into a scented
Elizabethan garden with herbs and honeysuckles,  a knot garden and roses clambering over a simple arbor …. ~Rosemary Verey
With holly and ivy,
So green and so gay,
We deck up our houses
As fresh as the day,
With bays, and rosemary,
And laurel complete;
And every one now
Is a king in conceit. ~Poor Robins Almanac, 1695
There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance;
pray, love, remember; and there is pansies,
that’s for thoughts.
-    Shakespeare, Hamlet
The first gatherings of the garden in May of salads, radishes and herbs made me feel like a mother about her baby – how could anything so beautiful be mine.  And this emotion of wonder filled me for each vegetable as it was gathered every year.  There is nothing that is comparable to it, as satisfactory or as thrilling, as gathering the vegetables one has grown.
~  Alice B. Toklas