The gardens of my youth were fragrant gardens and it is their sweetness rather than their patterns of their furnishings that I now most clearly recall.

Snowdrops: Theirs is a fragile but hardy celebration... in the very teeth of winter.

In his garden, every man may be his own artist without apology or explanation.

While working among the little plants of the far places of the world we forget the narrowness of our own orbit.

In his garden every man may be his own artist without apology or explanation. Here is one spot where each may experience the "romance of possibility".

To the landscape architect a rock garden... appears... the work of a lunatic.

He lacks much who has no aptitude for idleness.

Without courage, little is done and accomplished.

Why was I standing on the street when the window feel out of the building? Why did the bus run over me? Because it was my turn in the barrel, that's why.

I never grew up thinking the goal in life was to be a millionaire. All the way through college, I had a part-time job. I worked hard to get the things that you need at that age.

My life is like a speeding bullet that just hasn't hit the target yet.

Chance is the pseudonym God uses when He'd rather not sign His own name.

Spin the parasol three times and repeat after me: I shield in the name of fashion. I accessorize for one and all. Pursuit of truth is my passion. This I vow by the great parasol.

It will be said, however, that protection tends to destroy commerce, the civilizer of mankind. Directly the reverse, however, is the fact.

Any time I can be of help to the government in terms of giving advice -I've given a little advice, actually.

Six Seconds should be Rick Mofina's breakout thriller. It moves like a tornado.

The state of mind which I put myself when I tell a story is one in which superstition flourishes very easily. And I welcome that because it helps me.