Humor has justly been regarded as the finest perfection of poetic genius.

For all their current prestige Osama bin Laden and the suicide bombers are still regarded in all but the most desperate districts of Gaza or Peshawar as romantics with little chance of more than symbolic victories however bloody and brutal. That gives both the Middle East and the West a small and distant hope of security.

Life is given to you like a flat piece of land and everything has to be done. I hope that when I am finished my piece of land will be a beautiful garden so there is a lot of work.

I live in literally the same home when I was swiping my first bank card and wondering if I'd have to put back the Charmin. We still don't have a dishwasher. My mom has done all these gardens so now my house looks like the garden shack in the middle of Versailles.

The earth is my altar the sky is my dome mind is my garden the heart is my home and I'm always at home - yea I'm always at Om.

Your home is regarded as a model home your life as a model life. But all this splendor and you along with it... it's just as though it were built upon a shifting quagmire. A moment may come a word can be spoken and both you and all this splendor will collapse.

The lesson I have thoroughly learnt and wish to pass on to others is to know the enduring happiness that the love of a garden gives.

Some of us learned in a school of philosophy which taught that all was for the common good and nothing for oneself and have never in any case regarded the pursuit of happiness as anything other than an aberration of the human spirit.

Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified?

I've made an odd discovery. Every time I talk to a savant I feel quite sure that happiness is no longer a possibility. Yet when I talk with my gardener I'm convinced of the opposite.