A garden is never finished, much as it may evolve. In the end, we never complete our own growth, we just keep growing, if we are lucky, until we stop. We don’t grow continuously or smoothly or even noticeably at times, but stumblingly, glacially, or at a gallop, without meaning to, or after great effort. We grow because life is growth and we love life not only as an idea, but compulsively, anonymously, in every cell and membrane. Our curiosity is a kind of membrane, too, as are love, ambition, belief, and the many tissues of desire, which lead us from one season to the next and define us in the end. We grow. Pp. 240-241, Cultivating Delight, Diane Ackerman.