We plant, upon the sunny lea,A shadow for the noontide hour,A shelter from the summer shower,When we plant the apple-tree.

Before the war an apple tree had stood behind the church. It was an apple tree that ate its own apples.

Planting a tree is like having a baby

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

The apple tree never asks the beech how he shall grow, nor the lion the horse, how he shall take his prey.