A garden without cats, it will be generally agreed, can scarcely deserve to be called a garden at all.

Marriage is a book of which the first chapter is written in poetry and the remaining chapters in prose.

We both know, you and I, that if all men were gardeners, the world at last would be at peace.

Every moment of this strange and lovely life from dawn to dusk, is a miracle. Somewhere, always a rose is opening its petals to the dawn. Somewhere, always, a flower is fading in the dusk.

To dig one's own spade into one's own earth! Has life anything better to offer than this?

Let us be honest: most of us rather like our cats to have a streak of wickedness. I should not feel quite easy in the company of any cat that walked around the house with a saintly expression.

A garden is a place for shaping a little world of your own according to your heart's desire.

To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat.

Do you ever find yourself bursting into a sort of lunatic laughter at the sheer prettiness of things?

Well, I love geraniums, and anybody who does not love geraniums must obviously be a depraved and loathsome person.

As any psychologist will tell you, the worst thing you can possibly do to a woman is to deprive her of a grievance.

Your problems aren't too big -- perhaps your worship is too small.

If you're into architecture and you're from the West, everything is hors d'oeuvres for working to rebuild the Temple. Ultimately you're led there. You can't escape it.

The first steps toward stewardship are awareness, appreciation, and the selfish desire to have the things around for our kids to see. Presumably the unselfish motives will follow as we wise up.

Were a language ever completely "grammatical" it would be a perfect engine of conceptual expression. Unfortunately, or luckily, no language is tyrannically consistent. All grammars leak.

Some days I am not sure if my faith is riddled with doubt or whether, graciously, my doubt is riddled with faith.

Action is hope. There is no hope without action.

At the end of the day, the markets are my passion.

You never know the answers to the questions of life until you are asked.

It really is the year 2007. Which means I must be... Oh my God. I'm twenty-eight. I'm old.

nothing makes one so easily a fatalist as indifference.