Favorite Flowing Hedges Home

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Heaven sometimes hedges a rare character about with ungainliness and odium, as the burr that protects the fruit.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)

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I’ll come up the steps to the house and the gardener will be clipping away at the hedges and he’ll say, “Good evening, Mr. Younger.” And I’ll say, “Hello, Jefferson, how are you this evening?” And I’ll go inside and Ruth will come downstairs and meet me at the door and we’ll kiss each other and she’ll take my arm and we’ll go up to your room to see you sitting on the floor with the catalogues of all the great schools in America around you.... All the great schools in the world! And—and I’ll say, all right son—it’s your seventeenth birthday, what is it you’ve decided?... Just tell me, what it is you want to be—and you’ll be it.... Whatever you want to be—Yessir! You just name it, so ... and I hand you the world!
—Lorraine Hansberry (1930–1965)