classes ::: garden, place, favorite, noun,
children :::
branches ::: the Garden

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object:the Garden
class:garden
class:place
class:favorite
word class:noun

Jannah ::: In Islam, Jannah; lit. "paradise, garden", is the final abode of the righteous[1] and the Islamic believers, but also the Garden of Eden, where Adam and Hawa dwelt is called Jannah. Firdaus (Arabic: ) is the literal term meaning paradise which was borrowed from Persian , but the Quran generally uses the term Jannah symbolically referring to paradise. However "Firdaus" also designates the highest layer of heaven

--- QUOTES
How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God. ~ Matsuo Basho


  The supreme Shastra of the Integral Yoga is the eternal Veda secret in the heart of every thinking and living being. The lotus of the eternal knowledge and the eternal perfection is a bud closed and folded up within us. It opens swiftly or gradually, petal by petal, through successive realisations, once the mind of man begins to turn towards the Eternal, once his heart, no longer compressed and confined by attachment to finite appearances, becomes enamoured, in whatever degree, of the Infinite. All life, all thought, all energising of the faculties, all experiences passive or active, become thenceforward so many shocks which disintegrate the teguments of the soul and remove the obstacles to the inevitable efflorescence. He who chooses the Infinite has been chosen by the Infinite. He has received the divine touch without which there is no awakening, no opening of the spirit; but once it is received, attainment is sure, whether conquered swiftly in the course of one human life or pursued patiently through many stadia of the cycle of existence in the manifested universe.
  Nothing can be taught to the mind which is not already concealed as potential knowledge in the unfolding soul of the creature. So also all perfection of which the outer man is capable, is only a realising of the eternal perfection of the Spirit within him. We know the Divine and become the Divine, because we are That already in our secret nature. All teaching is a revealing, all becoming is an unfolding. Self-attainment is the secret; self-knowledge and an increasing consciousness are the means and the process.
  ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Synthesis Of Yoga, The Four Aids
--- NOTES
  the Garden near the Temple and the Library

see also ::: The Garden of Forking Paths,
see also ::: the Temple, the Library, the Flower of light and knowledge, the lotus of the eternal knowledge and the eternal perfection





see also ::: the_Flower_of_light_and_knowledge, The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths, the_Library, the_lotus_of_the_eternal_knowledge_and_the_eternal_perfection, the_Temple

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now begins generated list of local instances, definitions, quotes, instances in chapters, wordnet info if available and instances among weblinks


OBJECT INSTANCES [0] - TOPICS - AUTHORS - BOOKS - CHAPTERS - CLASSES - SEE ALSO - SIMILAR TITLES

TOPICS
the_Fountain
the_Sound_Garden
SEE ALSO

the_Flower_of_light_and_knowledge
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths
the_Library
the_lotus_of_the_eternal_knowledge_and_the_eternal_perfection
the_Temple

AUTH

BOOKS
Collected_Fictions
Journey_to_the_Lord_of_Power_-_A_Sufi_Manual_on_Retreat
Labyrinths
Modern_Man_in_Search_of_a_Soul
My_Burning_Heart
The_Book_of_Light
The_Divine_Milieu
The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh
The_Gateless_Gate
The_Golden_Bough
The_Seals_of_Wisdom
The_Use_and_Abuse_of_History
The_Wit_and_Wisdom_of_Alfred_North_Whitehead

IN CHAPTERS TITLE
0_1960-07-18_-_triple_time_vision,_Questions_and_Answers_is_like_circling_around_the_Garden
1.33_-_The_Gardens_of_Adonis
1.ac_-_The_Garden_of_Janus
1.hs_-_The_Garden
1.kbr_-_Do_Not_Go_To_The_Garden_Of_Flowers
1.kbr_-_Do_not_go_to_the_garden_of_flowers!
1.lla_-_I,_Lalla,_willingly_entered_through_the_garden-gate
1.lovecraft_-_The_Garden
1.rt_-_Lovers_Gifts_XIII_-_Last_Night_In_The_Garden
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_IV_-_Ah_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_IX_-_When_I_Go_Alone_At_Night
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LI_-_Then_Finish_The_Last_Song
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LIX_-_O_Woman
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LVII_-_I_Plucked_Your_Flower
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LV_-_It_Was_Mid-Day
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXI_-_Peace,_My_Heart
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXIV_-_I_Spent_My_Day
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXIX_-_I_Hunt_For_The_Golden_Stag
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXVIII_-_None_Lives_For_Ever,_Brother
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXIX_-_I_Often_Wonder
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXV_-_At_Midnight
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXIII_-_She_Dwelt_On_The_Hillside
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXIV_-_Over_The_Green
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXI_-_Why_Do_You_Whisper_So_Faintly
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XI_-_Come_As_You_Are
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIII_-_I_Asked_Nothing
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIV_-_I_Was_Walking_By_The_Road
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIX_-_You_Walked
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XL_-_An_Unbelieving_Smile
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_X_-_Let_Your_Work_Be,_Bride
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLIII_-_No,_My_Friends
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLII_-_O_Mad,_Superbly_Drunk
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLIV_-_Reverend_Sir,_Forgive
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLVIII_-_Free_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLVI_-_You_Left_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLV_-_To_The_Guests
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XVI_-_Hands_Cling_To_Eyes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XVIII_-_When_Two_Sisters
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XX_-_Day_After_Day_He_Comes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXII_-_When_She_Passed_By_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXIV_-_Do_Not_Keep_To_Yourself
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXI_-_Why_Did_He_Choose
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXIX_-_Speak_To_Me_My_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVIII_-_Your_Questioning_Eyes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVII_-_Trust_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVI_-_What_Comes_From_Your_Willing_Hands
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXXIV_-_Do_Not_Go,_My_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXXVIII_-_My_Love,_Once_Upon_A_Time
1.whitman_-_To_The_Garden_The_World
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_1
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_2

IN CHAPTERS CLASSNAME

IN CHAPTERS TEXT
0.00_-_INTRODUCTION
01.13_-_T._S._Eliot:_Four_Quartets
0_1960-07-18_-_triple_time_vision,_Questions_and_Answers_is_like_circling_around_the_Garden
0_1961-02-04
0_1961-04-12
0_1961-05-23
0_1962-02-27
0_1962-07-14
0_1963-03-19
0_1963-08-07
0_1964-07-31
0_1966-07-27
0_1968-02-07
0_1968-09-21
0_1970-01-03
0_1970-01-10
0_1970-04-18
0_1970-04-29
0_1970-05-23
0_1972-02-09
0_1973-03-24
04.04_-_A_Global_Humanity
06.01_-_The_Word_of_Fate
09.18_-_The_Mother_on_Herself
10.02_-_The_Gospel_of_Death_and_Vanity_of_the_Ideal
10.03_-_The_Debate_of_Love_and_Death
1.00_-_Preface
1.00_-_PROLOGUE_IN_HEAVEN
1.01_-_Archetypes_of_the_Collective_Unconscious
1.01_-_DOWN_THE_RABBIT-HOLE
1.01_-_MASTER_AND_DISCIPLE
1.01_-_On_Love
1.01_-_the_Call_to_Adventure
1.01_-_To_Watanabe_Sukefusa
1.02_-_THE_POOL_OF_TEARS
1.02_-_Where_I_Lived,_and_What_I_Lived_For
1.03_-_To_Layman_Ishii
1.03_-_VISIT_TO_VIDYASAGAR
1.04_-_ADVICE_TO_HOUSEHOLDERS
1.04_-_THE_APPEARANCE_OF_ANOMALY_-_CHALLENGE_TO_THE_SHARED_MAP
1.04_-_To_the_Priest_of_Rytan-ji
1.05_-_Bhakti_Yoga
1.05_-_BOOK_THE_FIFTH
1.05_-_Problems_of_Modern_Psycho_therapy
1.05_-_Some_Results_of_Initiation
1.05_-_THE_HOSTILE_BROTHERS_-_ARCHETYPES_OF_RESPONSE_TO_THE_UNKNOWN
1.05_-_The_Magical_Control_of_the_Weather
1.05_-_THE_MASTER_AND_KESHAB
1.06_-_THE_MASTER_WITH_THE_BRAHMO_DEVOTEES
1.07_-_A_MAD_TEA-PARTY
1.08_-_THE_QUEEN'S_CROQUET_GROUND
1.09_-_ADVICE_TO_THE_BRAHMOS
1.10_-_Relics_of_Tree_Worship_in_Modern_Europe
1.10_-_THE_MASTER_WITH_THE_BRAHMO_DEVOTEES_(II)
1.10_-_The_Revolutionary_Yogi
1.11_-_The_Influence_of_the_Sexes_on_Vegetation
1.11_-_WITH_THE_DEVOTEES_AT_DAKSHINEWAR
1.12_-_GARDEN
1.12_-_THE_FESTIVAL_AT_PNIHTI
1.12_-_The_Left-Hand_Path_-_The_Black_Brothers
1.13_-_THE_MASTER_AND_M.
1.14_-_The_Structure_and_Dynamics_of_the_Self
1.15_-_LAST_VISIT_TO_KESHAB
1.16_-_WITH_THE_DEVOTEES_AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.18_-_M._AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.19_-_THE_MASTER_AND_HIS_INJURED_ARM
1.201_-_Socrates
1.20_-_ON_CHILD_AND_MARRIAGE
1.20_-_RULES_FOR_HOUSEHOLDERS_AND_MONKS
1.23_-_FESTIVAL_AT_SURENDRAS_HOUSE
1.25_-_ADVICE_TO_PUNDIT_SHASHADHAR
1.25_-_DUNGEON
1.26_-_Continues_the_description_of_a_method_for_recollecting_the_thoughts._Describes_means_of_doing_this._This_chapter_is_very_profitable_for_those_who_are_beginning_prayer.
1.27_-_AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.28_-_Describes_the_nature_of_the_Prayer_of_Recollection_and_sets_down_some_of_the_means_by_which_we_can_make_it_a_habit.
1.29_-_The_Myth_of_Adonis
1.30_-_Describes_the_importance_of_understanding_what_we_ask_for_in_prayer._Treats_of_these_words_in_the_Paternoster:_Sanctificetur_nomen_tuum,_adveniat_regnum_tuum._Applies_them_to_the_Prayer_of_Quiet,_and_begins_the_explanation_of_them.
1.32_-_The_Ritual_of_Adonis
1.33_-_The_Gardens_of_Adonis
1.39_-_The_Ritual_of_Osiris
1.400_-_1.450_Talks
1.439
1.450_-_1.500_Talks
1.51_-_How_to_Recognise_Masters,_Angels,_etc.,_and_how_they_Work
1.53_-_The_Propitation_of_Wild_Animals_By_Hunters
1.55_-_The_Transference_of_Evil
1.61_-_Power_and_Authority
1.62_-_The_Fire-Festivals_of_Europe
1.63_-_The_Interpretation_of_the_Fire-Festivals
1.65_-_Balder_and_the_Mistletoe
1.70_-_Morality_1
1951-01-11_-_Modesty_and_vanity_-_Generosity
1951-04-14_-_Surrender_and_sacrifice_-_Idea_of_sacrifice_-_Bahaism_-_martyrdom_-_Sleep-_forgetfulness,_exteriorisation,_etc_-_Dreams_and_visions-_explanations_-_Exteriorisation-_incidents_about_cats
1953-10-21
1954-07-14_-_The_Divine_and_the_Shakti_-_Personal_effort_-_Speaking_and_thinking_-_Doubt_-_Self-giving,_consecration_and_surrender_-_Mothers_use_of_flowers_-_Ornaments_and_protection
1955-03-23_-_Procedure_for_rejection_and_transformation_-_Learning_by_heart,_true_understanding_-_Vibrations,_movements_of_the_species_-_A_cat_and_a_Russian_peasant_woman_-_A_cat_doing_yoga
1957-03-15_-_Reminiscences_of_Tlemcen
1962_02_27
1970_04_17
1.ac_-_The_Garden_of_Janus
1.anon_-_The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh_TabletIX
1.anon_-_The_Poem_of_Imru-Ul-Quais
1.bs_-_The_soil_is_in_ferment,_O_friend
1.cs_-_We_were_enclosed_(from_Prayer_20)
1f.lovecraft_-_At_the_Mountains_of_Madness
1f.lovecraft_-_Celephais
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Case_of_Charles_Dexter_Ward
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Doom_That_Came_to_Sarnath
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Dream-Quest_of_Unknown_Kadath
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Haunter_of_the_Dark
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Last_Test
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Mound
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Quest_of_Iranon
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Shadow_out_of_Time
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Shunned_House
1f.lovecraft_-_The_White_Ship
1f.lovecraft_-_What_the_Moon_Brings
1.fs_-_The_Walk
1.fua_-_The_Pupil_asks-_the_Master_answers
1.hs_-_O_Cup_Bearer
1.hs_-_Sweet_Melody
1.hs_-_The_Garden
1.hs_-_The_Rose_Is_Not_Fair
1.ia_-_In_The_Mirror_Of_A_Man
1.ia_-_In_the_Mirror_of_a_Man
1.jk_-_Isabella;_Or,_The_Pot_Of_Basil_-_A_Story_From_Boccaccio
1.jk_-_Ode_On_A_Grecian_Urn
1.jk_-_Ode_To_Psyche
1.jk_-_Robin_Hood
1.jk_-_Sonnet_V._To_A_Friend_Who_Sent_Me_Some_Roses
1.jk_-_Sonnet._Written_In_Answer_To_A_Sonnet_By_J._H._Reynolds
1.jlb_-_Adam_Cast_Forth
1.jlb_-_Plainness
1.jlb_-_Simplicity
1.jlb_-_The_Golem
1.jr_-_A_Moment_Of_Happiness
1.jr_-_Book_1_-_Prologue
1.jr_-_I_Swear
1.jr_-_You_are_closer_to_me_than_myself_(Ghazal_2798)
1.jwvg_-_Anniversary_Song
1.jwvg_-_Authors
1.jwvg_-_Presence
1.jwvg_-_The_Muses_Son
1.jwvg_-_To_My_Friend_-_Ode_I
1.kbr_-_Do_Not_Go_To_The_Garden_Of_Flowers
1.kbr_-_Do_not_go_to_the_garden_of_flowers!
1.lb_-_Old_Poem
1.lb_-_Poem_by_The_Bridge_at_Ten-Shin
1.lb_-_Spring_Night_In_Lo-Yang_Hearing_A_Flute
1.lb_-_The_River_Song
1.lla_-_I,_Lalla,_willingly_entered_through_the_garden-gate
1.lovecraft_-_Fungi_From_Yuggoth
1.lovecraft_-_Nathicana
1.lovecraft_-_The_Cats
1.lovecraft_-_The_City
1.lovecraft_-_The_Garden
1.lovecraft_-_The_House
1.lovecraft_-_The_Rose_Of_England
1.mbn_-_The_Soul_Speaks_(from_Hymn_on_the_Fate_of_the_Soul)
1.okym_-_13_-_Look_to_the_Rose_that_blows_about_us_--_Lo
1.okym_-_18_-_I_sometimes_think_that_never_blows_so_red
1.pbs_-_Fragments_Of_An_Unfinished_Drama
1.pbs_-_Ginevra
1.pbs_-_Julian_and_Maddalo_-_A_Conversation
1.pbs_-_Prometheus_Unbound
1.pbs_-_Scenes_From_The_Faust_Of_Goethe
1.pbs_-_The_Cenci_-_A_Tragedy_In_Five_Acts
1.pbs_-_The_Sensitive_Plant
1.poe_-_Al_Aaraaf-_Part_2
1.poe_-_The_Coliseum
1.rb_-_Andrea_del_Sarto
1.rb_-_A_Serenade_At_The_Villa
1.rb_-_Before
1.rb_-_Confessions
1.rb_-_Fra_Lippo_Lippi
1.rb_-_Garden_Francies
1.rb_-_Introduction:_Pippa_Passes
1.rb_-_Pippa_Passes_-_Part_I_-_Morning
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_First
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Second
1.rb_-_The_Englishman_In_Italy
1.rmr_-_Adam
1.rmr_-_You_Who_Never_Arrived
1.rt_-_Dream_Girl
1.rt_-_I_Cast_My_Net_Into_The_Sea
1.rt_-_Lovers_Gifts_XIII_-_Last_Night_In_The_Garden
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_IV_-_Ah_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_IX_-_When_I_Go_Alone_At_Night
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LI_-_Then_Finish_The_Last_Song
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LIX_-_O_Woman
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LVII_-_I_Plucked_Your_Flower
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LV_-_It_Was_Mid-Day
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXI_-_Peace,_My_Heart
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXIV_-_I_Spent_My_Day
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXIX_-_I_Hunt_For_The_Golden_Stag
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXVIII_-_None_Lives_For_Ever,_Brother
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXIX_-_I_Often_Wonder
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXV_-_At_Midnight
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXIII_-_She_Dwelt_On_The_Hillside
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXIV_-_Over_The_Green
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LXXXI_-_Why_Do_You_Whisper_So_Faintly
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XI_-_Come_As_You_Are
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIII_-_I_Asked_Nothing
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIV_-_I_Was_Walking_By_The_Road
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XIX_-_You_Walked
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XL_-_An_Unbelieving_Smile
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_X_-_Let_Your_Work_Be,_Bride
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLIII_-_No,_My_Friends
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLII_-_O_Mad,_Superbly_Drunk
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLIV_-_Reverend_Sir,_Forgive
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLVIII_-_Free_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLVI_-_You_Left_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XLV_-_To_The_Guests
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XVI_-_Hands_Cling_To_Eyes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XVIII_-_When_Two_Sisters
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XX_-_Day_After_Day_He_Comes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXII_-_When_She_Passed_By_Me
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXIV_-_Do_Not_Keep_To_Yourself
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXI_-_Why_Did_He_Choose
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXIX_-_Speak_To_Me_My_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVIII_-_Your_Questioning_Eyes
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVII_-_Trust_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXVI_-_What_Comes_From_Your_Willing_Hands
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXXIV_-_Do_Not_Go,_My_Love
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_XXXVIII_-_My_Love,_Once_Upon_A_Time
1.rt_-_The_Last_Bargain
1.rt_-_Vocation
1.rwe_-_Dmonic_Love
1.rwe_-_The_Snowstorm
1.rwe_-_Woodnotes
1.srmd_-_My_heart_searched_for_your_fragrance
1.tm_-_A_Practical_Program_for_Monks
1.wby_-_At_Algeciras_-_A_Meditaton_Upon_Death
1.wby_-_Beggar_To_Beggar_Cried
1.wby_-_Fragments
1.wby_-_In_The_Seven_Woods
1.wby_-_Meditations_In_Time_Of_Civil_War
1.wby_-_Sweet_Dancer
1.wby_-_The_Cap_And_Bells
1.wby_-_The_Gift_Of_Harun_Al-Rashid
1.wby_-_The_New_Faces
1.wby_-_The_Rose_Tree
1.wby_-_The_Tower
1.whitman_-_Faces
1.whitman_-_I_Sing_The_Body_Electric
1.whitman_-_I_Will_Take_An_Egg_Out_Of_The_Robins_Nest
1.whitman_-_Passage_To_India
1.whitman_-_Respondez!
1.whitman_-_Song_of_Myself
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXXIII
1.whitman_-_Starting_From_Paumanok
1.whitman_-_There_Was_A_Child_Went_Forth
1.whitman_-_These,_I,_Singing_In_Spring
1.whitman_-_This_Compost
1.whitman_-_To_The_Garden_The_World
1.ww_-_4-_The_White_Doe_Of_Rylstone,_Or,_The_Fate_Of_The_Nortons
1.ww_-_A_Flower_Garden_At_Coleorton_Hall,_Leicestershire.
1.ww_-_Book_Fourth_[Summer_Vacation]
1.ww_-_Book_Second_[School-Time_Continued]
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_II-_Book_First-_The_Wanderer
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_IX-_Book_Eighth-_The_Parsonage
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_VII-_Book_Sixth-_The_Churchyard_Among_the_Mountains
1.ww_-_The_Mother's_Return
1.ww_-_To_A_Sexton
1.ww_-_Vaudracour_And_Julia
2.01_-_AT_THE_STAR_THEATRE
2.01_-_The_Road_of_Trials
2.02_-_Habit_2__Begin_with_the_End_in_Mind
2.02_-_The_Ishavasyopanishad_with_a_commentary_in_English
2.03_-_THE_ENIGMA_OF_BOLOGNA
2.03_-_THE_MASTER_IN_VARIOUS_MOODS
2.05_-_Apotheosis
2.05_-_VISIT_TO_THE_SINTHI_BRAMO_SAMAJ
2.06_-_The_Wand
2.06_-_WITH_VARIOUS_DEVOTEES
2.07_-_BANKIM_CHANDRA
2.08_-_AT_THE_STAR_THEATRE_(II)
2.09_-_THE_MASTERS_BIRTHDAY
2.12_-_On_Miracles
2.15_-_CAR_FESTIVAL_AT_BALARMS_HOUSE
2.17_-_December_1938
2.17_-_THE_MASTER_ON_HIMSELF_AND_HIS_EXPERIENCES
2.22_-_THE_MASTER_AT_COSSIPORE
2.23_-_THE_MASTER_AND_BUDDHA
2.24_-_THE_MASTERS_LOVE_FOR_HIS_DEVOTEES
2.25_-_AFTER_THE_PASSING_AWAY
3.01_-_INTRODUCTION
3.01_-_The_Principles_of_Ritual
3.05_-_SAL
3.07_-_The_Formula_of_the_Holy_Grail
3.08_-_ON_APOSTATES
3.08_-_Purification
3.10_-_ON_THE_THREE_EVILS
3.12_-_ON_OLD_AND_NEW_TABLETS
31_Hymns_to_the_Star_Goddess
33.03_-_Muraripukur_-_I
33.04_-_Deoghar
33.05_-_Muraripukur_-_II
3.4.1.01_-_Poetry_and_Sadhana
3.7.1.09_-_Karma_and_Freedom
38.06_-_Ravana_Vanquished
4.01_-_The_Presence_of_God_in_the_World
4.02_-_Humanity_in_Progress
4.03_-_Prayer_of_Quiet
4.3_-_Bhakti
5.1.01.2_-_The_Book_of_the_Statesman
5.1.01.4_-_The_Book_of_Partings
5.1.02_-_Ahana
5.2.01_-_The_Descent_of_Ahana
5.2.02_-_The_Meditations_of_Mandavya
7.02_-_Courage
7.05_-_Patience_and_Perseverance
7.15_-_The_Family
Averroes_Search
Big_Mind_(ten_perfections)
Blazing_P1_-_Preconventional_consciousness
BOOK_II._--_PART_III._ADDENDA._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED
BOOK_II._--_PART_II._THE_ARCHAIC_SYMBOLISM_OF_THE_WORLD-RELIGIONS
BOOK_I._--_PART_I._COSMIC_EVOLUTION
BOOK_I._--_PART_III._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED
BOOK_I._--_PART_II._THE_EVOLUTION_OF_SYMBOLISM_IN_ITS_APPROXIMATE_ORDER
Book_of_Genesis
Book_of_Imaginary_Beings_(text)
BOOK_XI._-_Augustine_passes_to_the_second_part_of_the_work,_in_which_the_origin,_progress,_and_destinies_of_the_earthly_and_heavenly_cities_are_discussed.Speculations_regarding_the_creation_of_the_world
COSA_-_BOOK_IX
COSA_-_BOOK_VIII
ENNEAD_03.05_-_Of_Love,_or_Eros.
Guru_Granth_Sahib_first_part
Ion
Liber_111_-_The_Book_of_Wisdom_-_LIBER_ALEPH_VEL_CXI
Liber_46_-_The_Key_of_the_Mysteries
Prayers_and_Meditations_by_Baha_u_llah_text
r1912_12_12
Sayings_of_Sri_Ramakrishna_(text)
Symposium_translated_by_B_Jowett
Tablets_of_Baha_u_llah_text
Talks_With_Sri_Aurobindo_2
The_Act_of_Creation_text
The_Book_of_Certitude_-_P1
The_Book_of_Certitude_-_P2
The_Book_of_the_Prophet_Isaiah
The_Dwellings_of_the_Philosophers
the_Eternal_Wisdom
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_1
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_2
The_Gospel_According_to_John
The_Gospel_According_to_Luke
The_Gospel_According_to_Mark
The_Gospel_According_to_Matthew
The_Hidden_Words_text
The_Monadology
The_Pilgrims_Progress
The_Shadow_Out_Of_Time
The_Theologians
Timaeus
Verses_of_Vemana

PRIMARY CLASS

favorite
garden
place
temple
SIMILAR TITLES
the Garden
the Garden of Forking Paths
the Garden of Paradise
the Garden-Temple of Dreams

DEFINITIONS


TERMS STARTING WITH

the Garden of Gethsemane, with the assurance of

the gardener croons,


TERMS ANYWHERE

Acher (Hebrew) ’Aḥēr In an allegory in the Talmud (Hag 14b), one of four tanna’im (teachers) to enter the Garden of Delight, i.e., to seek initiation into the sacred science. His real name was ’Elisha‘ ben ’Abuyah. A famous Talmudic scholar before he “failed” the initiation, he became an apostate and was called Aher (stranger). Of the four that entered, Ben Asai looked — and died; Ben Zoma looked — and lost his reason; Aher made ravages in the plantation; and Aqiba, who had entered in peace, left in peace (Kab 67-8).

Adam (Hebrew) ’Ādām [from ’ādām to be red, ruddy] Used in Genesis for man, original mankind; the Qabbalah enumerates four Adams. The Archetypal or Heavenly Man (’Adam Qadmon) is the prototype for the second, androgyne Adam. From these two emanates the third Adam, preterrestrial and innocent, though still further removed from the divine prototype Adam Qadmon. The fourth Adam is “the Third Adam as he was after the Fall,” the terrestrial Adam of the Garden of Eden, our earthly sexual humanity (Qabbalah Myer 418).

agony ::: n. --> Violent contest or striving.
Pain so extreme as to cause writhing or contortions of the body, similar to those made in the athletic contests in Greece; and hence, extreme pain of mind or body; anguish; paroxysm of grief; specifically, the sufferings of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane.
Paroxysm of joy; keen emotion.
The last struggle of life; death struggle.


althea ::: n. --> A genus of plants of the Mallow family. It includes the officinal marsh mallow, and the garden hollyhocks.
An ornamental shrub (Hibiscus Syriacus) of the Mallow family.


Amal: “‘The garden of the Spouse’ is the psychic domain of love.

Amal: “‘The garden of the Spouse’ is the psychic domain of love.”

and in Targum Yerushalmi, we learn that the language God used at Creation and in the Garden

andropetalous ::: a. --> Produced by the conversion of the stamens into petals, as double flowers, like the garden ranunculus.

Angels of the Garden of Eden—the 2 angels

Asmodeus: In demonography, a destructive demon, at times identified with the serpent of the Garden of Eden, also with Samael (q.v.).

as sensible as a dictionary "humour" In Lewis Carroll's {Through the Looking Glass and what Alice found there (http://www.Germany.EU.net/books/carroll/alice.html)}, in the chapter {The Garden of Live Flowers (http://www.Germany.EU.net/books/carroll/alice_21.html

bell pepper ::: --> A species of Capsicum, or Guinea pepper (C. annuum). It is the red pepper of the gardens.

the Garden of Gethsemane, with the assurance of

BuddhadAsa. (1906-1993). Prominent Thai monk, Buddhist reformer, teacher of meditation, and ecumenical figure. Born the son of a merchant in the village of Pum Riang in southern Thailand, he was educated at Buddhist temple schools. It was customary for males in Thailand to be ordained as Buddhist monks for three months at the age of twenty and then return to lay life. BuddhadAsa decided, however, to remain a monk and quickly gained a reputation as a brilliant thinker, meditator, and teacher. He dwelled for several years in the Thai capital of Bangkok to further his studies but grew disillusioned with the prevailing practices of the SAMGHA in the city, which he perceived to be lax and corrupt. In 1932, he returned home to an abandoned monastery near his native village to live a simple life, practice meditation, and teach the dharma. He named his monastery Wat Suan MokkhabalArAma (Garden of the Power of Liberation), which is usually abbreviated to Suan Mokkh, the Garden of Liberation. The monastery became one of the first VIPASSANA (S. VIPAsYANA) (insight meditation) centers in southern Thailand. BuddhadAsa spent most of his life at this forest monastery overlooking the sea. Although his formal scholastic training was limited, BuddhadAsa studied PAli scriptures extensively, in particular the SUTTAPItAKA, to uncover their true meaning, which he felt had become obscured by centuries of commentarial overlays, ritual practices, and monastic politics. A gifted orator, his numerous sermons and talks were transcribed and fill an entire room of the National Library in Bangkok. In his writings, many of which are his transcribed sermons, he eschewed the formal style of traditional scholastic commentary in favor of a more informal, and in many ways controversial, approach in which he questioned many of the more popular practices of Thai Buddhism. For example, he spoke out strongly against the practice of merit-making in which lay people offer gifts to monks in the belief that they will receive material reward in their next life. BuddhadAsa argued that this traditionally dominant form of lay practice only keeps the participants in the cycle of rebirth because it is based on attachment, whereas the true form of giving is the giving up of the self. Instead, BuddhadAsa believed that, because of conditioned origination (PRATĪTYASAMUTPADA), people are naturally connected through a shared environment and are in fact capable of living harmoniously together. The hindrance to such a harmony comes from attachments to "I" and "mine," which must therefore be severed. Modern and ecumenical in perspective, BuddhadAsa sought to strip traditional Buddhism of what he regarded as obscurantism and superstition, and present the Buddha's teachings in a rational scientific idiom that acknowledged kindred teachings in other religions. BuddhadAsa's interpretations of the dharma have had a great impact on contemporary Buddhist thought in Thailand and are especially influential among the urban intelligentsia, social reformers, and environmentalists. His teachings are often cited as foundational by advocates of engaged Buddhism. The monastery he founded has become a venue for the training of foreign monks and nuns and for interfaith dialogue between Buddhists of different traditions, as well as between Buddhists and adherents of other religions.

Cassiel. In Enoch II, 8, the Garden of Eden and the

choronzon ::: Choronzon The serpent Choronzon is the 'dweller' in the Abyss, the final great obstacle between the magician and true enlightenment. Choronzon is known as the 'Demon of Dispersion', and described by Crowley as "a temporary personification of the raving and inconsistent forces that occupy the Abyss." The name Choronzon has been popularised by Aleister Crowley, but it first occurred in the Enochian records of John Dee, where he is synonymous with the serpent of the garden. See also Oath of the Abyss for further details.

Conway's Game of Life "simulation" The first popular {cellular automata} based {artificial life} simulation. Life was invented by British mathematician {John Horton Conway} in 1970 and was first introduced publicly in "Scientific American" later that year. Conway first devised what he called "The Game of Life" and "ran" it using plates placed on floor tiles in his house. Because of he ran out of floor space and kept stepping on the plates, he later moved to doing it on paper or on a checkerboard and then moved to running Life as a computer program on a {PDP-7}. That first implementation of Life as a computer program was written by M. J. T. Guy and {S. R. Bourne} (the author of {Unix}'s {Bourne shell}). Life uses a rectangular grid of binary (live or dead) cells each of which is updated at each step according to the previous state of its eight neighbours as follows: a live cell with less than two, or more than three, live neighbours dies. A dead cell with exactly three neighbours becomes alive. Other cells do not change. While the rules are fairly simple, the patterns that can arise are of a complexity resembling that of organic systems -- hence the name "Life". Many hackers pass through a stage of fascination with Life, and hackers at various places contributed heavily to the mathematical analysis of this game (most notably {Bill Gosper} at {MIT}, who even implemented Life in {TECO}!; see {Gosperism}). When a hacker mentions "life", he is more likely to mean this game than the magazine, the breakfast cereal, the 1950s-era board game or the human state of existence. {On-line implementation (http://pmav.eu/stuff/javascript-game-of-life-v3.1.1/)}. ["Scientific American" 223, October 1970, p120-123, 224; February 1971 p121-117, Martin Gardner]. ["The Garden in The Machine: the Emerging Science of Artificial Life", Claus Emmeche, 1994]. ["Winning Ways, For Your Mathematical Plays", Elwyn R. Berlekamp, John Horton Conway and Richard K. Guy, 1982]. ["The Recursive Universe: Cosmic Complexity and the Limits of Scientific Knowledge", William Poundstone, 1985]. [{Jargon File}] (1997-09-07)

during his agony in the Garden of Gethsemane

eden ::: n. --> The garden where Adam and Eve first dwelt; hence, a delightful region or residence.

Eden or the garden of Eden (Hebrew) ‘Ēden, Gan-‘ēden [from ‘ēden delight, pleasure, loveliness] The country in which the garden of Adam and Eve was situated according to the Bible. Not wholly a mythical name, for Eden “is an archaic name of the country watered by the Euphrates and its many branches, from Asia and Armenia to the Erythraean Sea” (SD 2:202). Hebraists hold that the site of Eden would be the cradle of the human race. See also GAN-EDEN; PARADISE

failed to prevent the entrance of Satan into the Garden of Eden, the guardian angels are shown returning

fasciated ::: a. --> Bound with a fillet, sash, or bandage.
Banded or compacted together.
Flattened and laterally widened, as are often the stems of the garden cockscomb.
Broadly banded with color.


Fayuan zhulin. (J. Hoon jurin; K. Pobwon churim 法苑珠林). In Chinese, "A Grove of Pearls in the Garden of the Dharma," compiled in 668 by the Tang-dynasty monk Daoshi (d. 683) of XIMINGXI; a comprehensive encyclopedia of Buddhism, in one hundred rolls and one hundred chapters, based on the DA TANG NEIDIAN LU and XU GAOSENG ZHUAN, which were compiled by Daoshi's elder brother, the monk DAOXUAN (596-667). The encyclopedia provides definitions and explanations for hundreds of specific Buddhist concepts, terms, and numerical lists. Each chapter deals with a single category such as the three realms of existence (TRILOKA[DHĀTU]), revering the Buddha, the DHARMA, and the SAMGHA, the monastery, relics (sARĪRA), repentance, receiving the precepts, breaking the precepts, and self-immolation (SHESHEN), covering these topics with numerous individual entries. The Fayuan zhulin is characterized by its use of numerous passages quoted from Buddhist scriptures in support of its explanations and interpretations. Since many of the texts that Daoshi cites in the Fayuan zhulin are now lost, the encyclopedia serves as an invaluable source for the study of medieval Chinese Buddhism.

Gan-Eden (Hebrew) Gan ’Ēden [from gan garden, park + ’ēden] Sometimes Gan-Aeden, Gandunia. The garden of Eden; in the Assyrian tablets it is rendered gan-dunyas or gan-dunu, which is also a name of Babylonia. See also EDEN; PARADISE

gnosticism ::: Gnosticism This was an early form of Christian heresy, and a related Pagan faith that believed the creation of matter was flawed, and the Creator, therefore, was an evil force. In Gnosticism, Jesus is equated to the serpent of the Garden of Eden, and one of the Archons.

hesperides ::: n. pl. --> The daughters of Hesperus, or Night (brother of Atlas), and fabled possessors of a garden producing golden apples, in Africa, at the western extremity of the known world. To slay the guarding dragon and get some of these apples was one of the labors of Hercules. Called also Atlantides.
The garden producing the golden apples.


in the Garden of Eden “squat like a Toad close at

In this we recognize the mythos of the tree of knowledge with its fruit and its location in the garden of life, localized in those mysterious lands of the West from which the ancestors of the Greeks migrated when the new race was in birth from the surviving elect of the old. It represents the Golden Age, the Eden of Grecian mythology.

Jaggannath: Sanskrit for lord of the world. A variant name of Vishnu, the Preserver, under which he is worshipped in Puri. The most notable feature of his worship is the “car festival,” in which a great car bearing a huge image of Jaggannath is hauled by thousands of worshippers from his temple to the Garden House, some four miles away. In former days, many worshipers would hurl themselves under the huge wheels, to be crushed to death. (Also called Juggernaut.)

larkspur ::: n. --> A genus of ranunculaceous plants (Delphinium), having showy flowers, and a spurred calyx. They are natives of the North Temperate zone. The commonest larkspur of the gardens is D. Consolida. The flower of the bee larkspur (D. elatum) has two petals bearded with yellow hairs, and looks not unlike a bee.

Life ::: (games) The first popular cellular automata based artificial life game. Life was invented by British mathematician John Horton Conway in 1970 and was first introduced publicly in Scientific American later that year.Conway first devised what he called The Game of Life and ran it using plates placed on floor tiles in his house. Because of he ran out of floor space and That first implementation of Life as a computer program was written by M. J. T. Guy and S. R. Bourne (the author of Unix's Bourne shell).Life uses a rectangular grid of binary (live or dead) cells each of which is updated at each step according to the previous state of its eight neighbours as dies. A dead cell with exactly three neighbours becomes alive. Other cells do not change.While the rules are fairly simple, the patterns that can arise are of a complexity resembling that of organic systems -- hence the name Life.Many hackers pass through a stage of fascination with Life, and hackers at various places contributed heavily to the mathematical analysis of this game than the magazine, the breakfast cereal, the 1950s-era board game or the human state of existence. . .[Scientific American 223, October 1970, p120-123, 224; February 1971 p121-117, Martin Gardner].[The Garden in The Machine: the Emerging Science of Artificial Life, Claus Emmeche, 1994].[Winning Ways, For Your Mathematical Plays, Elwyn R. Berlekamp, John Horton Conway and Richard K. Guy, 1982].[The Recursive Universe: Cosmic Complexity and the Limits of Scientific Knowledge, William Poundstone, 1985].[Jargon File] (1997-09-07)

lychnis ::: n. --> A genus of Old World plants belonging to the Pink family (Caryophyllaceae). Most of the species have brilliantly colored flowers and cottony leaves, which may have anciently answered as wicks for lamps. The botanical name is in common use for the garden species. The corn cockle (Lychnis Githago) is a common weed in wheat fields.

Mahinda. (S. Mahendra; T. Dbang chen; C. Moshentuo; J. Mashinda; K. Masinda 摩哂陀). Pāli proper name of the son of Asoka (S. AsOKA), who converted the Sinhalese king, DEVĀNAMPIYATISSA, to Buddhism in the third century BCE, thus inaugurating the Buddhist religion in Sri Lanka. The story of Mahinda is first recorded in the DĪPAVAMSA (c. fourth century CE) and is elaborated in the MAHĀVAMSA (c. fifth century CE) and BUDDHAGHOSA's VINAYA commentary, SAMANTAPĀSĀDIKĀ. In each of these works, Mahinda's story is preceded by a narrative that begins with the legend of Asoka's conversion to Buddhism, through the convention of the third Buddhist council (see COUNCIL, THIRD) under the direction of MOGGALIPUTTATISSA, to the dispatch of Buddhist missions to nine adjacent lands (paccantadesa). Mahinda was chosen to lead the mission sent to Sri Lanka. Mahinda, together with his sister SAnGHAMITTĀ, was ordained at the age of twenty at the request of his father, Asoka. He attained arahantship immediately upon his ordination. Mahinda was swift in learning the doctrine, and was placed in charge of Moggaliputtatissa's one thousand disciples when the latter retired to Ahoganga due to a dispute within the SAMGHA. Mahinda had been a monk for twelve years when the third Buddhist council was convened to celebrate the resolution of the dispute. Shortly thereafter, he was sent along with four other monks, a novice, and a layman to Sri Lanka for the purpose of converting its king. Mahinda preached the CulAHATTHIPADOPAMASUTTA to DevānaMpiyatissa, whereupon the king requested to be accepted as a lay disciple. The next day, he preached to the king's sister-in-law, Anulā, and five hundred women of the court, all of whom became stream-enterers. Preaching to them a second time, they became once-returners. When they asked be ordained, he said that monks could not ordain women, and suggested that his sister, the nun Sanghamittā, be invited, which was done. She came to Sri Lanka, bringing with her a branch of the BODHI TREE. The king offered to Mahinda the MAHĀMEGHAVANA, a royal pleasure garden that was to be the future site of the MAHĀTHuPA. In the garden, which was on the outskirts of the Sinhalese capital, ANURĀDHAPURA, Mahinda established the SĪMĀ boundary for the MAHĀVIHĀRA monastery, which thenceforth became the headquarters of the Theravāda fraternity on the island. At Mahinda's prompting, relics of the Buddha were received from Asoka and Sakka (S. sAKRA), king of the gods, which were interred in the Cetiyagiri and Thupārāma. Under Mahinda's direction, a council was held where MAHĀRIttHA, a native son of Sri Lanka, recited the vinaya. According to the Samantapāsādikā, this recital marked the firm establishment of the religion on the island. The Saddhammasangaha reckons the recitation of the vinaya by Mahārittha as the fourth Buddhist council (see COUNCIL, FOURTH). Mahinda died at the age of sixty and was cremated and his ashes interred in a shrine near the Mahāthupa.

Marcus Aurelius: (121-180 A.D.) The Roman Emperor who as a Stoic endowed chairs in Athens for the four great philosophical schools of the Academy, the Lyceum, The Garden and the Stoa. Aurelius' Stoicism, tempered by his friend Fronto's humanism, held to a rational world-order and providence as well as to a notion of probable truth rather than of the Stoic infallibilism. In the famous 12 books of Meditations, the view is prominent that death was as natural as birth and development was the end of the individual and should elicit the fear of no one. His harsh treatment of the Christians did not coincide with his mild nature which may have reflected the changed character of Stoicism brought on by the decadence of Rome.

martinism ::: Martinism A mystical tradition, founded by Louis-Claude de Saint-Martin in 18th century France. The 20th century saw a revival of some of the practices which pre-date Martinism proper and which directly inspired it. Martinism is a form of mystical or esoteric Christianity, which sees the figure of Christ as The Repairer who enables individuals to attain an idealised state similar to that in the Garden of Eden prior to the Fall.

muyu. (J. mokugyo; K. mogo 木魚). In Chinese, literally "wooden fish"; referring to a wooden percussion instrument carved in the shape of a fish, which is commonly used in Chinese Buddhist monasteries to summon monks and nuns to daily events and to mark time during rituals. It is one of the four percussion instruments (see DRUM), together with the Brahmā bell, dharma drum, and cloud-shaped gong. Various explanations are given for its fish-like shape. According to the BAIZHANG QINGGUI ("Baizhang's Rules of Purity"), since a fish's eyes are never closed, the wooden fish is a subtle admonition to monks and nuns to remain ever vigilant about their practice. The TIANTAI monastic code, Jiaoyuan Qinggui ("Rules of Purity for the Garden of the Teachings"), includes a story said to come from the ABHIDHARMAMAHĀVIBHĀsĀ, about a monk who had been reborn as a fish with a tree growing out of his back, which was retribution for betraying his teacher and slandering the dharma in a prior lifetime. Whenever the tree swayed, the fish bled and felt great pain. One day, the monk's former teacher was crossing the sea in a boat and, seeing the fish, recognized it to be his former student. He performed the "rite of water and land" (C. SHUILU HUI), freeing the fish from its torment, and the fish repented for its past behavior. When his former student was again reborn, the tree was donated to a monastery, which carved it into the shape of a fish as a symbol of admonition. In a third story from a different source, the Chinese pilgrim XUANZANG was returning home from India and saved a wealthy man's three-year-old son from the stomach of a big fish. The man wanted to repay him for his deed, so Xuanzang instructed him to have a piece of wood carved in the shape of a fish and hung in the monastery for the benefit of the fish. Over time, the body depicted on the wooden fish began to take on more the look of a dragon, autochthonous water divinities in traditional China, with a dragon-like head with a talismanic pearl (MAnI) in its mouth. In Korea, the muyu takes on the more abstract fish shape of the MOKT'AK (wooden clacker).

of the Garden of Eden, that Ridwan appears in

orbitelae ::: n. pl. --> A division of spiders, including those that make geometrical webs, as the garden spider, or Epeira.

paradise ::: n. --> The garden of Eden, in which Adam and Eve were placed after their creation.
The abode of sanctified souls after death.
A place of bliss; a region of supreme felicity or delight; hence, a state of happiness.
An open space within a monastery or adjoining a church, as the space within a cloister, the open court before a basilica, etc.
A churchyard or cemetery.


passion ::: n. --> A suffering or enduring of imposed or inflicted pain; any suffering or distress (as, a cardiac passion); specifically, the suffering of Christ between the time of the last supper and his death, esp. in the garden upon the cross.
The state of being acted upon; subjection to an external agent or influence; a passive condition; -- opposed to action.
Capacity of being affected by external agents; susceptibility of impressions from external agents.


peppergrass ::: n. --> Any herb of the cruciferous genus Lepidium, especially the garden peppergrass, or garden cress, Lepidium sativum; -- called also pepperwort. All the species have a pungent flavor.
The common pillwort of Europe (Pilularia globulifera). See Pillwort.


Persian tradition places a Garden of Delight far to the north of Caucasus in the Arctic regions, where was the Imperishable Sacred Land whence issued a stream from the earth’s fount of life. Adi-varsha was the Eden of the first races and specifically of the primeval third root-race; the Eden of the fifth root-race is but its faint reminiscence. The Garden of Eden or of God (Ezek 31:3-9) was a home of initiates of Atlantis, now submerged.

pieplant ::: n. --> A plant (Rheum Rhaponticum) the leafstalks of which are acid, and are used in making pies; the garden rhubarb.

qinggui. (J. shingi; K. ch'onggyu 清規). In Chinese, lit. "rules of purity" or "rules for the pure (assembly)," a genre of monastic codes compiled by adherents within the CHAN tradition. According to such Song-period genealogical records as the JINGDE CHUANDENG LU, the Tang Chan master BAIZHANG HUAIHAI (720-814) composed the first such Chan code, entitled the BAIZHANG QINGGUI ("Baizhang's Rules of Purity"), in order to establish an independent Chan discipline distinct from the normative VINAYA tradition; his qinggui is not extant, however, and modern scholars doubt that it ever existed. There might have been some Chan monastic codes as early as the Tang dynasty, influenced by such Chinese codes as DAO'AN's (312-384) Sengni guifan ("Standards for Monks and Nuns") or DAOXUAN's (596-667) Jiaojie xinxue biqiu xinghu lüyi ("Exhortation on Manners and Etiquette for Novices in Training"). However, the oldest surviving Chan code is the CHANYUAN QINGGUI compiled by the YUNMEN ZONG master CHANGLU ZONGZE (d. c. 1107). These types of texts were typically composed by the founding abbots of monasteries and thus include their vision of how monks in their monasteries should conduct themselves. These codes deal with daily routines in the monastery, monthly schedules, annual festivals, titles and duties of the administrative monks in the monastery, and outlines of various religious services. They may also include monastic rules and regulations related to state policies regarding SAMGHA administration, such as rules on travel permits and the election of abbots. The codes differed in content, since each monastery compiled its own in accord with its own needs, e.g., as to whether it was a public or private monastery. For this reason, the Yuan Emperor Shun (r. 1333-1368) eventually compiled a unified code based on the rules attributed to Baizhang, entitled the Chixiu Baizhang qinggui. Although the term qinggui originally referred to the monastic codes associated with the Chan school, it later came to be used as a general term for the monastic codes used by other schools, such as in the TIANTAI monk Ziqing's (fl. fourteenth century) Jiaoyuan qinggui ("Pure Rules for the Garden of Doctrine") compiled in 1347. See also BCA' YIG.

Ryoanji. [alt. Ryuanji] (龍安寺). In Japanese, "Dragon Peace Monastery," located in northwest Kyoto and famous for its dry landscape garden (J. karesansui). Originally an estate of the Fujiwara clan, the site was converted into a ZEN temple in 1450 by order of the military leader Hosokawa Katsumoto (1430-1473), a vassal of the Ashikaga shogun. He installed Giten Gensho, the fifth abbot of MYoSHINJI, as its founding religious leader (see KAISAN); since that time the monastery has been affiliated with the Myoshinji branch of the RINZAISHu of Zen Buddhism. The site of bloody fighting during the onin civil war (1467-1477), Ryoanji had to be rebuilt by Hosokawa Katsumoto's son Hosokawa Masamoto between 1488 and 1499. Much of the monastery burned down in 1789 and was subsequently reconstructed. The monastery was a relatively obscure temple in the first half of the twentieth century, but the garden gained great fame in 1949 when it was used in a scene of Ozu Yasujiro's film Banshun (Late Spring). Beginning in the 1950s, the garden began to be described as a "Zen garden" and has since come to be considered one of Japan's cultural masterpieces. The garden has fifteen moss-covered boulders set in a sea of white pebbles. During the nineteenth century, the arrangement of the stones was called "tiger cubs crossing a river," referring to a Chinese folktale, although many other interpretations have been offered in more recent decades. The temple grounds are the burial site of seven Hosokawa lords. Ryoanji was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994.

Satan the talking serpent and seducer in the Garden

Scorpio (The Scorpion): The eighth sign of the zodiac. Its symbol resembles that of Virgo, but with an arrow on the tail—doubtless to represent the sting. It is symbolized by the asp or serpent, harking back to the serpent of the Garden of Eden, and indicating that the will governs or is governed by the reproductive urge. It is sometimes symbolized by the Dragon, and is frequently linked with the constellation Aquilla—the Eagle. The Sun is in Scorpio annually from October 23 to November 22. Astrologically it is the second thirty-degree arc after the Sun’s passing of the Fall Equinox, occupying a position along the Ecliptic from 210° to 240°. It is the “fixed” quality of the element Water: negative, nocturnal, cold, moist, watery, mute, phlegmatic. Ruler: Mars. Exaltation: Uranus. Detriment: Venus. Fall: Moon. Symbolic interpretation: The legs and tail of a scorpion; the tail with the sting, the serpent.

Shruti: “The garden is all manifestation, the Spouse is the manifesting force, the Spouse of the Divine Purusha.”

Sin Evildoing, moral obliquity expressed in thought and act; in its relation to human evolution, it applies especially to the misuse of human creative powers which occurred after the fall into material existence. The procreative act, for example, in itself is not sinful, for this is but nature’s arrangement for the continuing of the human strain, but the abuse of this power, especially for black magical purposes. This truth has been perverted by Christian theology, which regards the procreative act as essentially sinful and permissible only as a concession to the “original sin” stamped upon us by our first parents in the Garden of Eden, and only to be purged by the Atonement.

stands at the gates of the Garden of Eden with the

Tempter In general, the human mind, whether reacting to outside impulsions or impressions, or from within its own relatively small and uninspired powers; it has been commonly typified by the dragon, Satan, Zeus, etc. “Zeus is represented as a serpent — the intellectual tempter of man — which, nevertheless, begets in the course of cyclic evolution the ‘Man-Saviour,’ the solar Bacchus or ‘Dionysus,’ more than a man” (SD 2:419-20). Indeed, often it is our higher nature which “tempts” us upwards by calling forth latent or inner powers which, once evoked, are the ladder by which we climb. Thus our tempter is also our redeemer. The esoteric teaching of the tempting of humankind by awakening in its light of intellect has been materialized into a sensual temptation by a Devil in the Garden of Eden; and in the Bible, an evolutionary phase has been theologically degraded into a sin. The astral light is also spoken of as the tempter, especially by Eliphas Levi.

the angelic hosts are able to enter the Garden of

The Fall ::: As part of the allegory of the Garden of Eden, this is the Fall from non-duality into dualistic identity that gave rise to the plethora of permutations of experience that categorize consciousness.

the gardener croons,

the golden apples in the garden of Hesperides.

  “The idea was that Mother Eve in the Garden of Eden held encapsulated in her womb all the seeds of the human race, which she passed on to her children, the families of which in their turn held encapsulated the seeds of future generations, passing them on to their children; and so forth. When properly interpreted, this is what H. P. B. meant when she spoke in The Secret Doctrine (I, 223-4) of the unmodified germ plasm — Weismann’s theory.

The linga-sarira has great tensile strength. It changes continuously during a lifetime, although these changes never depart from the fundamental human type or pattern, just as the physical body alters every moment. It also possesses the ability to exteriorize itself to a certain distance from its physical encasement, but in no case more than a few feet. It is composed of electromagnetic matter, which is somewhat more refined than the matter of our physical body. The whole world was composed of such matter in far past ages before it became the dense physical sphere it now is. After long ages the astral form had evolved and perfected, so that it has the form that the human races had during the early period of the third root-race — a more or less materialized concretion of the still more ethereal astrals of the first and second root-races. After another long period, during which the cycle of further descent into matter progressed, the gradually thickening astral form oozed forth from itself a coat of skin, corresponding to the Hebrew allegory of the Garden of Eden. Thus the present physical flesh-form of mankind appears.

They locate the “grieslie king” in the Garden of

thyme ::: n. --> Any plant of the labiate genus Thymus. The garden thyme (Thymus vulgaris) is a warm, pungent aromatic, much used to give a relish to seasoning and soups.

trance of Satan into the Garden of Eden, the

Tree A variant of the cross or tau, to be considered in connection with the serpent which is wound round it. The two together symbolize the world tree with the spiritual, intellectual, psychic, and psychological aggregate of forces encircling the world tree and working in and through it — these forces often grouped in the Orient under the name of kundalini. In minor significance, the two together symbolize the life-waves, or any life-wave, passing through the planes, spirit circling through matter, fohat working in the kosmos. Thus the tree symbol stands for the universe, and correspondentially for man, in whom the monadic ray kindles activity on the several planes; while the physiological key of interpretation applies to the analogies in the human body with its various structures through which play the pranic currents. The tree, by its form, represents evolution, for it begins with a root and spreads out into branches and twigs; only as applied to the kosmos the root is conceived to be on high and the branches to extend downwards. Thus there is the Asvattha tree of India or bodhi tree, the Norse Yggdrasil, the tree Ababel in the Koran, the Sephirothal Tree which is ’Adam Qadmon. In the Garden of Eden it is stated that there were two trees, the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, which signifies the two knowledges. It is said in Gnosticism that Ennoia (divine thought) and Ophis (serpent), as a unity, are the Logos; as separated they are the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, the former spiritual, the latter manasic. Adam eats the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge which means in one important allegory of human evolution that mankind after the separation of the sexes became endowed with manas, or that when humanity began to be endowed with dual manas, the rays then separated into the opposite sexes; and lest he should partake of the Tree of Life and become immortal, in the then imperfect state of evolution, he is turned out of Eden. It is stated that buddhi becomes transformed into the tree whose fruit is emancipation and which finally destroys the roots of the Asvattha, which here is the symbol of the mayavi life. This latter tree is also the emblem of secret and sacred knowledge, guarded by serpents or dragons; it may also refer to a sacred scripture. Dragons guarded the tree with the golden apples of the Hesperides; the trees of Meru were guarded by a serpent; Juno, on her wedding with Jupiter, gave him a tree with golden fruit, as Eve gave the fruit to Adam. Blavatsky says of Eve: “She it was who first led man to the Tree of Knowledge and made known to him Good and Evil; and if she had been left in peace to do quietly that which she wished to do, she would have conducted him to the Tree of Life and would thus have rendered him immortal” (La Revue Theosophique 2:10). See also ASVATTHA, YGGDRASIL

treeoflife ::: Tree of Life In the Book of Genesis, this is a tree whose fruit gives everlasting life, i.e. immortality. After eating of the Tree of Knowledge of good and evil, Adam and Eve were exiled from the Garden of Eden, after which God set angels to guard the entrance to the Garden fearing they would also eat of the Tree of Life and so become immortal. The Tree of Life is also the symbolic representation of the Kabbalah, comprising the ten Sephiroth and the twenty-two paths of spiritual wisdom. It is a powerful means of gaining personal and spiritual realisation.

Udgata. (P. Uggata; T. 'Phags pa; C. Yujiatuo; J. Utsukada; K. Ulgat'a 欝伽陀). Lay disciple of the Buddha deemed to be foremost among laymen who served the order (SAMGHA). According to the Pāli account, where he is known as Uggata, he was a wealthy householder living in the town of Hatthigāma. One day, while the Buddha was sojourning at the Nāgavanuyyāna garden in the town, Uggata visited the garden in a drunken state, accompanied by dancers, after a drinking binge that had lasted seven days. Seeing the Buddha, he was filled with shame and immediately sobered up. The Buddha preached to him, and he became a nonreturner (ANĀGĀMIN) on the spot. He dismissed the dancers and, from that time onward, devoted himself to serving the order. He used to receive visitations from the divinities, who told him of the attainments of various members of the order and suggested that he favor these above the rest. Uggata, however, treated all monks equally and showed no preference in his benefactions between those who had attained distinction as ĀRYAPUDGALA and those who were still unenlightened. When queried, Uggata said that there were eight wonderful things that happened to, and were done by, him in this life: he recovered his sobriety the very moment he saw the Buddha; he readily understood the Buddha's teaching of the FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS; when he took a vow of celibacy, he provided for his four wives even to the point of finding one of them a new husband of her choice; he shared his great wealth with persons of good conduct; he served monks wholeheartedly, listening to their sermons or preaching to them when they did not speak; he was equally generous to all monks without making distinctions; he was not prideful of his conversations with the divinities; and he did not worry about death, for the Buddha had assured him that he would not return to this world.

Uriel descending from heaven on a sunbeam to join Gabriel, Ithuriel, and Zephon in the Garden of Eden,

watch over the Garden of Eden and the Tree of

, which means (from Aramaic)  &

whitethroat ::: n. --> Any one of several species of Old World warblers, esp. the common European species (Sylvia cinerea), called also strawsmear, nettlebird, muff, and whitecap, the garden whitethroat, or golden warbler (S. hortensis), and the lesser whitethroat (S. curruca).

With regard to the elohim bringing man forth “in their own image” (tselem), Blavatsky says: “The sexless Race was their first production, a modification of and from themselves, the pure spiritual existences; and this as Adam solus. Thence came the second Race: Adam-Eve or Jod-Heva, inactive androgynes; and finally the Third, or the ‘Separating Hermaphrodite,’ Cain and Abel, who produce the Fourth, Seth-Enos, etc.” (SD 2:134). Again, “finally, even the four ‘Adams’ (symbolizing under other names the four preceding races) were forgotten; and passing from one generation in to another, each loaded with some additional myths, got at last drowned in that ocean of popular symbolism called the Pantheons. Yet they exist to this day in the oldest Jewish traditions, as the Tzelem, ‘the Shadow-Adam’ (the Chhayas of our doctrine); the ‘model’ Adam, the copy of the first, and the ‘male and female’ of the exoteric genesis (chap. i); the third, the ‘earthly Adam’ before the Fall, an androgyne; and the Fourth — the Adam after his fall, i.e. separated into sexes, or the pure Atlantean. The Adam of the garden of Eden, or the forefather of our race — the fifth — is an ingenious compound of the above four” (SD 2:503). See also ‘OLAM; SEPHIRAH

Xiangyan Zhixian. (J. Kyogen Chikan; K. Hyangom Chihan 香嚴智閑) (d. 898). Chinese CHAN master in the GUIYANG ZONG of the Chan tradition. Zhixian entered the monastery under BAIZHANG HUAIHAI and later became a student of YANGSHAN HUIJI. Zhixian dwelled for a long time at Mt. Xiangyan, whence his toponym. One day while he was sweeping the garden, Zhixian is said to have attained awakening when he heard the bamboo brush against the roof tiles. He is best known for the GONG'AN case "Xiangyan Hanging from a Tree": A man is dangling by his mouth from the branch of a tall tree, his hands tied behind his back and nothing beneath his feet. Someone comes under the tree branch and asks, "Why did BODHIDHARMA come from the West?" If he keeps his mouth clenched and refuses to answer, he is rude to the questioner; but if he opens his mouth to answer, he will fall to his death. How does he answer? Upon Zhixian's death, he was given the posthumous title Chan master Xideng (Inheritor of the Lamplight).

zauschneria ::: n. --> A genus of flowering plants. Zauschneria Californica is a suffrutescent perennial, with showy red flowers much resembling those of the garden fuchsia.



QUOTES [30 / 30 - 1500 / 2274]


KEYS (10k)

   9 Jorge Luis Borges
   1 Voltaire
   1 Saint Padre Pio
   1 Philokalia
   1 Minnie Aumonier
   1 Mehmet Murat ildan
   1 Lewis Carroll
   1 Koran
   1 ken-wilber
   1 Jalaluddin Rumi
   1 Ibn Arabi
   1 H P Lovecraft
   1 Georg C Lichtenberg
   1 Ernest Hemingway
   1 encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.
As I walk
   1 Boye De Mente
   1 Baha-ullah
   1 Anonymous
   1 Anais Nin
   1 Sri Ramakrishna
   1 Sri Aurobindo
   1 Abu Hamid al-Ghazali

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   31 Anonymous
   29 Rumi
   14 Brian Godawa
   13 F Scott Fitzgerald
   10 Jorge Luis Borges
   9 Rabindranath Tagore
   9 Michael Pollan
   9 Frances Hodgson Burnett
   9 C S Lewis
   8 Yann Martel
   8 Wendell Berry
   8 Thich Nhat Hanh
   8 Orson Scott Card
   8 Dot Hutchison
   7 Richard Dawkins
   7 Ray Bradbury
   7 Paulo Coelho
   6 Robert Frost
   6 Neil Gaiman
   6 Mehmet Murat ildan

1:Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.
   ~ Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden,
2:When the world wearies, and society ceases to satisfy, there is always the Garden. ~ Minnie Aumonier,
3:In the garden of literature, the highest and the most charismatic flowers are always the quotations. ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
4:O my friends, plant only flowers of love in the garden of hearts. ~ Baha-ullah, the Eternal Wisdom
5:Or do ye think that ye shall enter the Garden of Bliss without such trials as came to those who passed away before you? ~ Koran, 2:214,
6: You are that blessed soul who belongs to the garden of Paradise. " ~ Jalaluddin Rumi, @Sufi_Path
7:In a riddle whose answer is chess, what is the only prohibited word?
   ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
8:Lost in these imaginary illusions I forgot my destiny - that of the hunted.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
9:Many dwell upon the glory of God's works. Many are charmed with the garden, but few seek the Lord of the garden. ~ Sri Ramakrishna,
10:Self-control needs to be cultivated and guarded ceaselessly, so as to prevent any of the passions that are outside the garden from stealthily creeping in. ~ Philokalia,
11:We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest.
   ~ Voltaire,
12:God does not lie in our collective past, God lies in our collective future; the Garden of Eden is tomorrow, not yesterday; the Golden Age lies down the road, not up it. ~ ken-wilber,
13:It seemed incredible that this day, a day without warnings or omens, might be that of my implacable death.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
14:O Lower self, which is better, the Garden of eternity or a glimpse of this world's unlawful bounty and its wretched, fleeting rubbish? ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,
15:Do not judge God's world from your own. Trim your own hedge as you wish and plant your flowers in the patterns you can understand, but do not judge the garden of nature from your little window box. ~ Georg C Lichtenberg,
16:I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
17:Continue to pray that God may console you when you feel that the weight of the Cross is becoming too burdensome. Acting thus you are not doing anything against the will of God, but are with the Son of God who, in the garden, asked His Father for some relief. ~ Saint Padre Pio,
18:I kept asking myself how a book could be infinite. I could not imagine any other than a cyclic volume, circular. A volume whose last page would be the same as the first and so have the possibility of continuing indefinitely.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
19:Ts'ui Pe must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
20:This web of time - the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries - embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
21:Writing long books is a laborious and impoverishing act of foolishness: expanding in five hundred pages an idea that could be perfectly explained in a few minutes. A better procedure is to pretend that those books already exist and to offer a summary, a commentary.
   ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths?,
22:In all fiction, when a man is faced with alternatives he chooses one at the expense of the others. In the almost unfathomable Ts'ui Pen, he chooses - simultaneously - all of them. He thus creates various futures, various times which start others that will in their turn branch out and bifurcate in other times. That is the cause of the contradictions in the novel." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
23:In Japanese language, kata (though written as 方) is a frequently-used suffix meaning way of doing, with emphasis on the form and order of the process. Other meanings are training method and formal exercise. The goal of a painter's practicing, for example, is to merge his consciousness with his brush; the potter's with his clay; the garden designer's with the materials of the garden. Once such mastery is achieved, the theory goes, the doing of a thing perfectly is as easy as thinking it
   ~ Boye De Mente, Japan's Secret Weapon - The Kata Factor,
24:If a man finds himself haunted by evil desires and unholy images, which will generally be at periodical hours, let him commit to memory passages of Scripture, or passages from the best writers in verse or prose. Let him store his mind with these, as safeguards to repeat when he lies awake in some restless night, or when despairing imaginations, or gloomy, suicidal thoughts, beset him. Let these be to him the sword, turning everywhere to keep the way of the Garden of Life from the intrusion of profaner footsteps. ~ Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno, [T6],
25:And as I ran along the shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet and maddened ever by the fear of unknown things and the lure of the dead faces, I saw that the garden had no end under that moon; for where by day the walls were, there stretched now only new vistas of trees and paths, flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and bendings of the yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. And the lips of the dead lotos-faces whispered sadly, and bade me follow, nor did I cease my steps till the stream became a river, and joined amidst marshes of swaying reeds and beaches of gleaming sand the shore of a vast and nameless sea. Upon ~ H P Lovecraft,
26:The Garden ::: There's an ancient, ancient garden that I see sometimes in dreams,
Where the very Maytime sunlight plays and glows with spectral gleams;
Where the gaudy-tinted blossoms seem to wither into grey,
And the crumbling walls and pillars waken thoughts of yesterday.
There are vines in nooks and crannies, and there's moss about the pool,
And the tangled weedy thicket chokes the arbour dark and cool:
In the silent sunken pathways springs a herbage sparse and spare,
Where the musty scent of dead things dulls the fragrance of the air.
There is not a living creature in the lonely space arouna,
And the hedge~encompass'd d quiet never echoes to a sound.
As I walk, and wait, and listen, I will often seek to find
When it was I knew that garden in an age long left behind;
I will oft conjure a vision of a day that is no more,
As I gaze upon the grey, grey scenes I feel I knew before.
Then a sadness settles o'er me, and a tremor seems to start -
For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the garden is my heart. ~ H P Lovecraft,
27:Over and over again I sail towards joy, which is never in the room with me, but always near me, across the way, like those rooms full of gayety one sees from the street, or the gayety in the street one sees from a window. Will I ever reach joy? It hides behind the turning merry-go-round of the traveling circus. As soon as I approach it, it is no longer joy. Joy is a foam, an illumination. I am poorer and hungrier for the want of it. When I am in the dance, joy is outside in the elusive garden. When I am in the garden, I hear it exploding from the house. When I am traveling, joy settles like an aurora borealis over the land I leave. When I stand on the shore I see it bloom on the flag of a departing ship. What joy? Have I not possessed it? I want the joy of simple colors, street organs, ribbons, flags, not a joy that takes my breath away and throws me into space alone where no one else can breathe with me, not the joy that comes from a lonely drunkenness. There are so many joys, but I have only known the ones that come like a miracle, touching everything with light. ~ Anais Nin,
28:When love beckons to you follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden. For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth......
   But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears. Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.>p>Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; For love is sufficient unto love. And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
   But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. ~ Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet,
29:PROTECTION
   Going to sleep is a little like dying, a journey taken alone into the unknown. Ordinarily we are not troubled about sleep because we are familiar with it, but think about what it entails. We completely lose ourselves in a void for some period of time, until we arise again in a dream. When we do so, we may have a different identity and a different body. We may be in a strange place, with people we do not know, involved in baffling activities that may seem quite risky.
   Just trying to sleep in an unfamiliar place may occasion anxiety. The place may be perfectly secure and comfortable, but we do not sleep as well as we do at home in familiar surroundings. Maybe the energy of the place feels wrong. Or maybe it is only our own insecurity that disturbs us,and even in familiar places we may feel anxious while waiting for sleep to come, or be frightenedby what we dream. When we fall asleep with anxiety, our dreams are mingled with fear and tension, sleep is less restful, and the practice harder to do. So it is a good idea to create a sense of protection before we sleep and to turn our sleeping area into a sacred space.
   This is done by imagining protective dakinis all around the sleeping area. Visualize the dakinis as beautiful goddesses, enlightened female beings who are loving, green in color, and powerfully protective. They remain near as you fall asleep and throughout the night, like mothers watching over their child, or guardians surrounding a king or queen. Imagine them everywhere, guarding the doors and the windows, sitting next to you on the bed, walking in the garden or the yard, and so on, until you feel completely protected.
   Again, this practice is more than just trying to visualize something: see the dakinis with your mind but also use your imagination to feel their presence. Creating a protective, sacred environment in this way is calming and relaxing and promotes restful sleep. This is how the mystic lives: seeing the magic, changing the environment with the mind, and allowing actions, even actions of the imagination, to have significance.
   You can enhance the sense of peace in your sleeping environment by keeping objects of a sacred nature in the bedroom: peaceful, loving images, sacred and religious symbols, and other objects that direct your mind toward the path.
   The Mother Tantra tells us that as we prepare for sleep we should maintain awareness of the causes of dream, the object to focus upon, the protectors, and of ourselves. Hold these together inawareness, not as many things, but as a single environment, and this will have a great effect in dream and sleep.
   ~ Tenzin Wangyal Rinpoche, The Tibetan Yogas Of Dream And Sleep,
30:One little picture in this book, the Magic Locket, was drawn by 'Miss Alice Havers.' I did not state this on the title-page, since it seemed only due, to the artist of all these (to my mind) wonderful pictures, that his name should stand there alone.
The descriptions, of Sunday as spent by children of the last generation, are quoted verbatim from a speech made to me by a child-friend and a letter written to me by a lady-friend.
The Chapters, headed 'Fairy Sylvie' and 'Bruno's Revenge,' are a reprint, with a few alterations, of a little fairy-tale which I wrote in the year 1867, at the request of the late Mrs. Gatty, for 'Aunt Judy's Magazine,' which she was then editing.
It was in 1874, I believe, that the idea first occurred to me of making it the nucleus of a longer story.
As the years went on, I jotted down, at odd moments, all sorts of odd ideas, and fragments of dialogue, that occurred to me--who knows how?--with a transitory suddenness that left me no choice but either to record them then and there, or to abandon them to oblivion. Sometimes one could trace to their source these random flashes of thought--as being suggested by the book one was reading, or struck out from the 'flint' of one's own mind by the 'steel' of a friend's chance remark but they had also a way of their own, of occurring, a propos of nothing --specimens of that hopelessly illogical phenomenon, 'an effect without a cause.' Such, for example, was the last line of 'The Hunting of the Snark,' which came into my head (as I have already related in 'The Theatre' for April, 1887) quite suddenly, during a solitary walk: and such, again, have been passages which occurred in dreams, and which I cannot trace to any antecedent cause whatever. There are at least two instances of such dream-suggestions in this book--one, my Lady's remark, 'it often runs in families, just as a love for pastry does', the other, Eric Lindon's badinage about having been in domestic service.

And thus it came to pass that I found myself at last in possession of a huge unwieldy mass of litterature--if the reader will kindly excuse the spelling --which only needed stringing together, upon the thread of a consecutive story, to constitute the book I hoped to write. Only! The task, at first, seemed absolutely hopeless, and gave me a far clearer idea, than I ever had before, of the meaning of the word 'chaos': and I think it must have been ten years, or more, before I had succeeded in classifying these odds-and-ends sufficiently to see what sort of a story they indicated: for the story had to grow out of the incidents, not the incidents out of the story I am telling all this, in no spirit of egoism, but because I really believe that some of my readers will be interested in these details of the 'genesis' of a book, which looks so simple and straight-forward a matter, when completed, that they might suppose it to have been written straight off, page by page, as one would write a letter, beginning at the beginning; and ending at the end.

It is, no doubt, possible to write a story in that way: and, if it be not vanity to say so, I believe that I could, myself,--if I were in the unfortunate position (for I do hold it to be a real misfortune) of being obliged to produce a given amount of fiction in a given time,--that I could 'fulfil my task,' and produce my 'tale of bricks,' as other slaves have done. One thing, at any rate, I could guarantee as to the story so produced--that it should be utterly commonplace, should contain no new ideas whatever, and should be very very weary reading!
This species of literature has received the very appropriate name of 'padding' which might fitly be defined as 'that which all can write and none can read.' That the present volume contains no such writing I dare not avow: sometimes, in order to bring a picture into its proper place, it has been necessary to eke out a page with two or three extra lines : but I can honestly say I have put in no more than I was absolutely compelled to do.
My readers may perhaps like to amuse themselves by trying to detect, in a given passage, the one piece of 'padding' it contains. While arranging the 'slips' into pages, I found that the passage was 3 lines too short. I supplied the deficiency, not by interpolating a word here and a word there, but by writing in 3 consecutive lines. Now can my readers guess which they are?

A harder puzzle if a harder be desired would be to determine, as to the Gardener's Song, in which cases (if any) the stanza was adapted to the surrounding text, and in which (if any) the text was adapted to the stanza.
Perhaps the hardest thing in all literature--at least I have found it so: by no voluntary effort can I accomplish it: I have to take it as it come's is to write anything original. And perhaps the easiest is, when once an original line has been struck out, to follow it up, and to write any amount more to the same tune. I do not know if 'Alice in Wonderland' was an original story--I was, at least, no conscious imitator in writing it--but I do know that, since it came out, something like a dozen storybooks have appeared, on identically the same pattern. The path I timidly explored believing myself to be 'the first that ever burst into that silent sea'--is now a beaten high-road: all the way-side flowers have long ago been trampled into the dust: and it would be courting disaster for me to attempt that style again.

Hence it is that, in 'Sylvie and Bruno,' I have striven with I know not what success to strike out yet another new path: be it bad or good, it is the best I can do. It is written, not for money, and not for fame, but in the hope of supplying, for the children whom I love, some thoughts that may suit those hours of innocent merriment which are the very life of Childhood; and also in the hope of suggesting, to them and to others, some thoughts that may prove, I would fain hope, not wholly out of harmony with the graver cadences of Life.
If I have not already exhausted the patience of my readers, I would like to seize this opportunity perhaps the last I shall have of addressing so many friends at once of putting on record some ideas that have occurred to me, as to books desirable to be written--which I should much like to attempt, but may not ever have the time or power to carry through--in the hope that, if I should fail (and the years are gliding away very fast) to finish the task I have set myself, other hands may take it up.
First, a Child's Bible. The only real essentials of this would be, carefully selected passages, suitable for a child's reading, and pictures. One principle of selection, which I would adopt, would be that Religion should be put before a child as a revelation of love--no need to pain and puzzle the young mind with the history of crime and punishment. (On such a principle I should, for example, omit the history of the Flood.) The supplying of the pictures would involve no great difficulty: no new ones would be needed : hundreds of excellent pictures already exist, the copyright of which has long ago expired, and which simply need photo-zincography, or some similar process, for their successful reproduction. The book should be handy in size with a pretty attractive looking cover--in a clear legible type--and, above all, with abundance of pictures, pictures, pictures!
Secondly, a book of pieces selected from the Bible--not single texts, but passages of from 10 to 20 verses each--to be committed to memory. Such passages would be found useful, to repeat to one's self and to ponder over, on many occasions when reading is difficult, if not impossible: for instance, when lying awake at night--on a railway-journey --when taking a solitary walk-in old age, when eyesight is failing or wholly lost--and, best of all, when illness, while incapacitating us for reading or any other occupation, condemns us to lie awake through many weary silent hours: at such a time how keenly one may realise the truth of David's rapturous cry "O how sweet are thy words unto my throat: yea, sweeter than honey unto my mouth!"
I have said 'passages,' rather than single texts, because we have no means of recalling single texts: memory needs links, and here are none: one may have a hundred texts stored in the memory, and not be able to recall, at will, more than half-a-dozen--and those by mere chance: whereas, once get hold of any portion of a chapter that has been committed to memory, and the whole can be recovered: all hangs together.
Thirdly, a collection of passages, both prose and verse, from books other than the Bible. There is not perhaps much, in what is called 'un-inspired' literature (a misnomer, I hold: if Shakespeare was not inspired, one may well doubt if any man ever was), that will bear the process of being pondered over, a hundred times: still there are such passages--enough, I think, to make a goodly store for the memory.
These two books of sacred, and secular, passages for memory--will serve other good purposes besides merely occupying vacant hours: they will help to keep at bay many anxious thoughts, worrying thoughts, uncharitable thoughts, unholy thoughts. Let me say this, in better words than my own, by copying a passage from that most interesting book, Robertson's Lectures on the Epistles to the Corinthians, Lecture XLIX. "If a man finds himself haunted by evil desires and unholy images, which will generally be at periodical hours, let him commit to memory passages of Scripture, or passages from the best writers in verse or prose. Let him store his mind with these, as safeguards to repeat when he lies awake in some restless night, or when despairing imaginations, or gloomy, suicidal thoughts, beset him. Let these be to him the sword, turning everywhere to keep the way of the Garden of Life from the intrusion of profaner footsteps."
Fourthly, a "Shakespeare" for girls: that is, an edition in which everything, not suitable for the perusal of girls of (say) from 10 to 17, should be omitted. Few children under 10 would be likely to understand or enjoy the greatest of poets: and those, who have passed out of girlhood, may safely be left to read Shakespeare, in any edition, 'expurgated' or not, that they may prefer: but it seems a pity that so many children, in the intermediate stage, should be debarred from a great pleasure for want of an edition suitable to them. Neither Bowdler's, Chambers's, Brandram's, nor Cundell's 'Boudoir' Shakespeare, seems to me to meet the want: they are not sufficiently 'expurgated.' Bowdler's is the most extraordinary of all: looking through it, I am filled with a deep sense of wonder, considering what he has left in, that he should have cut anything out! Besides relentlessly erasing all that is unsuitable on the score of reverence or decency, I should be inclined to omit also all that seems too difficult, or not likely to interest young readers. The resulting book might be slightly fragmentary: but it would be a real treasure to all British maidens who have any taste for poetry.
If it be needful to apologize to any one for the new departure I have taken in this story--by introducing, along with what will, I hope, prove to be acceptable nonsense for children, some of the graver thoughts of human life--it must be to one who has learned the Art of keeping such thoughts wholly at a distance in hours of mirth and careless ease. To him such a mixture will seem, no doubt, ill-judged and repulsive. And that such an Art exists I do not dispute: with youth, good health, and sufficient money, it seems quite possible to lead, for years together, a life of unmixed gaiety--with the exception of one solemn fact, with which we are liable to be confronted at any moment, even in the midst of the most brilliant company or the most sparkling entertainment. A man may fix his own times for admitting serious thought, for attending public worship, for prayer, for reading the Bible: all such matters he can defer to that 'convenient season', which is so apt never to occur at all: but he cannot defer, for one single moment, the necessity of attending to a message, which may come before he has finished reading this page,' this night shalt thy soul be required of thee.'
The ever-present sense of this grim possibility has been, in all ages, 1 an incubus that men have striven to shake off. Few more interesting subjects of enquiry could be found, by a student of history, than the various weapons that have been used against this shadowy foe. Saddest of all must have been the thoughts of those who saw indeed an existence beyond the grave, but an existence far more terrible than annihilation--an existence as filmy, impalpable, all but invisible spectres, drifting about, through endless ages, in a world of shadows, with nothing to do, nothing to hope for, nothing to love! In the midst of the gay verses of that genial 'bon vivant' Horace, there stands one dreary word whose utter sadness goes to one's heart. It is the word 'exilium' in the well-known passage

Omnes eodem cogimur, omnium
Versatur urna serius ocius
Sors exitura et nos in aeternum
Exilium impositura cymbae.

Yes, to him this present life--spite of all its weariness and all its sorrow--was the only life worth having: all else was 'exile'! Does it not seem almost incredible that one, holding such a creed, should ever have smiled?
And many in this day, I fear, even though believing in an existence beyond the grave far more real than Horace ever dreamed of, yet regard it as a sort of 'exile' from all the joys of life, and so adopt Horace's theory, and say 'let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.'
We go to entertainments, such as the theatre--I say 'we', for I also go to the play, whenever I get a chance of seeing a really good one and keep at arm's length, if possible, the thought that we may not return alive. Yet how do you know--dear friend, whose patience has carried you through this garrulous preface that it may not be your lot, when mirth is fastest and most furious, to feel the sharp pang, or the deadly faintness, which heralds the final crisis--to see, with vague wonder, anxious friends bending over you to hear their troubled whispers perhaps yourself to shape the question, with trembling lips, "Is it serious?", and to be told "Yes: the end is near" (and oh, how different all Life will look when those words are said!)--how do you know, I say, that all this may not happen to you, this night?
And dare you, knowing this, say to yourself "Well, perhaps it is an immoral play: perhaps the situations are a little too 'risky', the dialogue a little too strong, the 'business' a little too suggestive.
I don't say that conscience is quite easy: but the piece is so clever, I must see it this once! I'll begin a stricter life to-morrow." To-morrow, and to-morrow, and tomorrow!

"Who sins in hope, who, sinning, says,
'Sorrow for sin God's judgement stays!'
Against God's Spirit he lies; quite stops Mercy with insult; dares, and drops,
Like a scorch'd fly, that spins in vain
Upon the axis of its pain,
Then takes its doom, to limp and crawl,
Blind and forgot, from fall to fall."

Let me pause for a moment to say that I believe this thought, of the possibility of death--if calmly realised, and steadily faced would be one of the best possible tests as to our going to any scene of amusement being right or wrong. If the thought of sudden death acquires, for you, a special horror when imagined as happening in a theatre, then be very sure the theatre is harmful for you, however harmless it may be for others; and that you are incurring a deadly peril in going. Be sure the safest rule is that we should not dare to live in any scene in which we dare not die.
But, once realise what the true object is in life--that it is not pleasure, not knowledge, not even fame itself, 'that last infirmity of noble minds'--but that it is the development of character, the rising to a higher, nobler, purer standard, the building-up of the perfect Man--and then, so long as we feel that this is going on, and will (we trust) go on for evermore, death has for us no terror; it is not a shadow, but a light; not an end, but a beginning!
One other matter may perhaps seem to call for apology--that I should have treated with such entire want of sympathy the British passion for 'Sport', which no doubt has been in by-gone days, and is still, in some forms of it, an excellent school for hardihood and for coolness in moments of danger.
But I am not entirely without sympathy for genuine 'Sport': I can heartily admire the courage of the man who, with severe bodily toil, and at the risk of his life, hunts down some 'man-eating' tiger: and I can heartily sympathize with him when he exults in the glorious excitement of the chase and the hand-to-hand struggle with the monster brought to bay. But I can but look with deep wonder and sorrow on the hunter who, at his ease and in safety, can find pleasure in what involves, for some defenceless creature, wild terror and a death of agony: deeper, if the hunter be one who has pledged himself to preach to men the Religion of universal Love: deepest of all, if it be one of those 'tender and delicate' beings, whose very name serves as a symbol of Love--'thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women'--whose mission here is surely to help and comfort all that are in pain or sorrow!

'Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.' ~ Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno,

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

1:The snake stood up for evil in the Garden. ~ robert-frost, @wisdomtrove
2:If you rest too long the weeds take the garden. ~ jim-rohn, @wisdomtrove
3:The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end ~ t-s-eliot, @wisdomtrove
4:The garden of the world has no limits, except in your mind.   ~ rumi, @wisdomtrove
5:For children, most importantly, being in the garden is something magical. ~ fritjof-capra, @wisdomtrove
6:Thy Return is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul. ~ omar-khayyam, @wisdomtrove
7:God is entirely and personally present in the wilderness, in the garden, in the field. ~ martin-luther, @wisdomtrove
8:This practice of yoga is to remove the weeds from the body so that the garden can grow. ~ b-k-s-iyengar, @wisdomtrove
9:There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street. ~ d-h-lawrence, @wisdomtrove
10:A soul is a troublesome possession, and when man developed it he lost the Garden of Eden. ~ william-somerset-maugham, @wisdomtrove
11:Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified? ~ chuck-palahniuk, @wisdomtrove
12:It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves. ~ robert-louis-stevenson, @wisdomtrove
13:It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden. ~ elizabeth-barrett-browning, @wisdomtrove
14:Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same. ~ hellen-keller, @wisdomtrove
15:And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from &
16:We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest. ~ voltaire, @wisdomtrove
17:God does not lie in our collective past, God lies in our collective future; the Garden of Eden is tomorrow, not yetsterday; the Golden Age lies down the road, not up it. ~ ken-wilber, @wisdomtrove
18:The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh. ~ rumi, @wisdomtrove
19:The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged&
20:A man ought to carry himself in the world as an orange tree would if it could walk up and down in the garden, swinging perfume from every little censer it holds up in the air. ~ henry-ward-beecher, @wisdomtrove
21:A tulip doesn't strive to impress anyone.It doesn't struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn't have to. It is different. And there's room in the garden for every flower. ~ marianne-williamson, @wisdomtrove
22:We must all wage an intense, lifelong battle against the constant downward pull. If we relax, the bugs and weeds of negativity will move into the garden and take away everything of value. ~ jim-rohn, @wisdomtrove
23:Do not go to the garden of flowers! O friend! go not there;  In your body is the garden of flowers.  Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus, and there gaze on the infinite beauty. ~ kabir, @wisdomtrove
24:I believe ingratitude is the original sin. I believe if Adam and Eve had been grateful for the garden of Eden they had, they would not have been so focused on the one tree they didn't have. ~ max-lucado, @wisdomtrove
25:The model for me is a touchstone, it is a door which I must break open in order to reach the garden in which I am alone and feel good, even the model exists only for what use I can make of it. ~ henri-matisse, @wisdomtrove
26:Inside each one of us is a beautiful flower garden. This is the garden of the soul. With each lesson we learn, the garden grows. As we learn together, our individual gardens form a tranquil paradise. ~ sri-chinmoy, @wisdomtrove
27:Friends are "annuals" that need seasonal nurturing to bear blossoms. Family is a "perennial" that comes up year after year, enduring the droughts of absence and neglect. There's a place in the garden for both of them. ~ erma-bombeck, @wisdomtrove
28:And when I behold Thee as absolute Infinity, to whom is befitting neither the name of creating Creator nor of creatable Creator-then indeed I begin to behold Thee unveiled, and to enter into the garden of delights! ~ nicholas-of-cusa, @wisdomtrove
29:The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or the breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil. ~ john-steinbeck, @wisdomtrove
30:You would get longer livelier and more frequent letters from me, if it weren't for the Christian religion. How that bell tolling at the end of the garden, dum dum, dum dum, annoys me! Why is Christianity so insistent and so sad? ~ virginia-woolf, @wisdomtrove
31:On Saturday afternoons when all the things are done in the house and there's no real work to be done, I play Bach and Chopin and turn it up real loudly and get a good bottle of chardonnay and sit out on my deck and look out at the garden. ~ maya-angelou, @wisdomtrove
32:It was a cold hard easterly morning when he latched the garden gate and turned away. The light snowfall which had feathered his schoolroom windows on the Thursday, still lingered in the air, and was falling white, while the wind blew black. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
33:Zen opens a man's eyes to the greatest mystery as it is daily and hourly performed; it enlarges the heart to embrace eternity of time and infinity of space in its every palpitation; it makes us live in the world as if walking in the garden of Eden ~ d-t-suzuki, @wisdomtrove
34:It is a strange thing that many truly spiritual men, such as General Gordon, have actually spent some hours in speculating upon the precise location of the Garden of Eden. Most probably we are in Eden still. It is only our eyes that have changed. ~ g-k-chesterton, @wisdomtrove
35:Cultivate peace first in the garden of your heart by removing the weeds of lust, hatred, greed, selfishness, and jealousy. Then only you can manifest it externally. Then only, those who come in contact with you, will be benefited by your vibrations of peace and harmony. ~ sivananda, @wisdomtrove
36:John Bunyan, while he had a surpassing genius, would not condescend to cull his language from the garden of flowers; but he went into the hayfield and the meadow, and plucked up his language by the roots, and spoke out in the words that the people used in their cottages. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove
37:Whenever you see confusion, you can be sure that something is wrong. Disorder in the world implies that something is out of place. Usually, at the heart of all disorder you will find man in rebellion against God. It began in the Garden of Eden and continues to this day. ~ aiden-wilson-tozer, @wisdomtrove
38:What good is all our busy religion if God isn't in it? What good is it if we've lost majesty, reverence, worship-an awareness of the divine? What good is it if we've lost a sense of the Presence and the ability to retreat within our own hearts and meet God in the garden? ~ aiden-wilson-tozer, @wisdomtrove
39:The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alivewith chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names. ~ f-scott-fitzgerald, @wisdomtrove
40:Put an Englishman into the garden of Eden, and he would find fault with the whole blasted concern; put a Yankee in, and he would see where he could alter it to advantage; put an Irishman in, and he would want to boss the thing; put a Dutchman in, and he would proceed to plant it. ~ josh-billings, @wisdomtrove
41:Many ask me whether pranayama ... postpones old age. Why worry about it? Death is certain. Let it come when it comes. Just keep working. The soul has no age. It doesn't die. Only the body decays. And yet, we must never forget the body, since it is the garden we must cherish and cultivate. ~ b-k-s-iyengar, @wisdomtrove
42:In fine weather the old gentelman is almost constantly in the garden; and when it is too wet to go into it, he will look out the window at it, by the hour together. He has always something to do there, and you will see him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting, with manifest delight. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
43:Initially, when I first became a Christian and got into ministry, my thought was that God existed to make my life better and to take me to Heaven. Now I realize that it is not about me at all. It is all about God and that He did this to display His plan to restore the Earth to the Garden of Eden state. ~ max-lucado, @wisdomtrove
44:Fireflies in the Garden By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) Achieve at times a very star-like start. Only, of course, they can't sustain the part. ~ robert-frost, @wisdomtrove
45:I find one vast garden spread out all over the universe. All plants, all human beings, all higher mind bodies are about in this garden in various ways, each has his own uniqueness and beauty. Their presence and variety give me great delight. Every one of you adds with his special feature to the glory of the garden. ~ anandamayi-ma, @wisdomtrove
46:World War II made war reputable because it was a just war. I wouldn't have missed it for anything. You know how many other just wars there have been? Not many. And the guys I served with became my brothers. If it weren't for World War II, I'd now be the garden editor of The Indianapolis Star. I wouldn't have moved away. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove
47:All our work in the field, in the garden, in the city, in the home, in struggle, in government-to what does it all amount before God except child's play, by means of which God is pleased to give his gifts in the field, at home, and everywhere? These are the masks of our Lord God, behind which he wants to be hidden and to do all things. ~ martin-luther, @wisdomtrove
48:Cold Mountain Buddhas Han Shan Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness be dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. ~ t-s-eliot, @wisdomtrove
49:Now I am in the garden at the back . . . a very preserve of butterflies as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate . . . where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unnerved. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
50:We're all assigned a piece of the garden, a corner of the universe that is ours to transform. Our corner of the universe is our own life - our relationships, our homes, our work, our current circumstances -. exactly as they are. Every situation we find ourselves in is an opportunity, perfectly planned by the Holy Spirit, to teach love instead of fear. ~ marianne-williamson, @wisdomtrove
51:How could you give me life, and take from me all the inappreciable things that raise it from the state of conscious death? Where are the graces of my soul? Where are the sentiments of my heart? What have you done, oh, Father, What have you done with the garden that should have bloomed once, in this great wilderness here? Said louisa as she touched her heart. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
52:It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to &
53:As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently an knowledge of his movements that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table&
54:Earthly love is a brief and penurious stream, which only flows in spring, with a long summer drought. The change from a burning desert, treeless, springless, drear, to green fields and blooming orchards in June, is slight in comparison with that from the desert of this world's affection to the garden of God, where there is perpetual, tropical luxuriance of blessed love. ~ henry-ward-beecher, @wisdomtrove
55:Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever? ~ mary-oliver, @wisdomtrove
56:Our role as gardeners is to choose, plant and tend the best seeds within the garden of our consciousness. Learning to look deeply at our consciousness is our greatest gift and our greatest need, for there lie the seeds of suffering and of love, the very roots of our being, of who we are. Mindfulness... is the guide and the practice by which we learn how to use the seeds of suffering to nourish the seeds of love. ~ thich-nhat-hanh, @wisdomtrove
57:Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightly. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to acertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done. ~ jane-austen, @wisdomtrove
58:Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightly. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to ascertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done. ~ jane-austen, @wisdomtrove
59:The evening wind made such a disturbance just now, among some tall old elm-trees at the bottom of the garden, that neither my mother nor Miss Betsey could forbear glancing that way. As the elms bent to one another, like giants who were whispering secrets, and after a few seconds of such repose, fell into a violent flurry, tossing their wild arms about, as if their late confidences were really too wicked for their peace of mind. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove
60:Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends. ~ t-s-eliot, @wisdomtrove
61:But I have to say this in defense of humankind: In no matter what era in history, including the Garden of Eden, everybody just got here. And, except for the Garden of Eden, there were already all these games going on that could make you act crazy, even if you weren't crazy to begin with. Some of the crazymaking games going on today are love and hate, liberalism and conservatism, automobiles and credit cards, golf, and girls' basketball. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove
62:The best recipe for happiness and contentment I've seen is this: dig a big hole in the garden of your thoughts and put into it all your disillusions, disappointments, regrets, worries, troubles, doubts, and fears. Cover well with the earth of fruitfulness. Water it from the well of contentment. Sow on top the seeds of hope, courage, strength, patience, and love. Then when the time for gathering comes, may your harvest be a rich and fruitful one. ~ zig-ziglar, @wisdomtrove
63:On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they realized the new wonder; but even they hardly realized that the world had died in the night. What they were looking at was the first day of a new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the evening but of the dawn. ~ g-k-chesterton, @wisdomtrove
64:The light struck upon the trees in the garden, making one leaf transparent and then another. One bird chirped high up; there was a pause; another chirped lower down. The sun sharpended the walls of the house, and rested like the tip of a fan upon a white blind and made a fingerprint of a shadow under the leaf by the bedroom window. The blind stirred slightly, but all within was dim and unsubstantial. The birds sang their blank melody outside. ~ virginia-woolf, @wisdomtrove
65:The Christian religion is derogatory to the Creator in all its articles. It puts the Creator in an inferior point of view, and places the Christian devil above him. It is he, according to the absurd story in Genesis, that outwits the Creator in the Garden Eden, and steals from Him His favorite creature, man, and at last obliges Him to beget a son, and put that son to death, to get man back again; and this the priests of the Christian religion call redemption. ~ thomas-paine, @wisdomtrove
66:I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And &
67:If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden. The two processes complement each other, creating a complete landscape that I treasure. The green foliage of the trees casts a pleasant shade over the earth, and the wind rustles the leaves, which are sometimes dyed a brilliant gold. Meanwhile, in the garden, buds appear on the flowers, and colorful petals attract bees and butterflies, reminding us of the subtle transition from one season to the next. ~ haruki-murakami, @wisdomtrove
68:To crush out fanaticism and revere the infinite, such is the law. Let us not confine ourselves to falling prostrate beneath the tree of creation and contemplating its vast ramifications full of stars. We have a duty to perform, to cultivate the human soul, to defend mystery against miracle, to adore the incomprehensible and to reject the absurd; to admit nothing that is inexplicable excepting what is necessary, to purify faith and obliterate superstition from the face of religion, to remove the vermin from the garden of God. ~ victor-hugo, @wisdomtrove
69:I behold Thee, 0 Lord my God, in a kind of mental trance, ... Thus, while I am borne to loftiest heights, I behold Thee as Infinity...   And when I behold Thee as absolute Infinity, to whom is befitting neither the name of creating Creator nor of creatable Creator-then indeed I begin to behold Thee unveiled, and to enter into the garden of delights! ... [In that vision] nothing is seen other than Thyself, [for Thou] art Thyself the object of Thyself (for Thou seest, and art That which is seen, and art the sight as well) . ~ nicholas-of-cusa, @wisdomtrove
70:A man's minor actions and arrangements ought to be free, flexible, creative; the things that should be unchangeable are his principles, his ideals. But with us the reverse is true; our views change constantly; but our lunch does not change. Now, I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. Let them argue from the same first principles, but let them do it in a bed, or a boat, or a balloon. ~ g-k-chesterton, @wisdomtrove
71:It is no disparagement to the garden to say it will not fence and weed itself, nor prune its own fruit trees, nor roll and cut its own lawns... It will remain a garden only if someone does all these things to it... If you want to see the difference between [the garden's] contribution and the gardener's, put the commonest weed it grows side by side with his hoes rakes, shears, and a packet of weed killer; you have put beauty, energy, and fecundity beside dead, steril things. Just so, our &
72:A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower. You didn’t have to struggle to make your face different than anyone else’s on earth. It just is. You are unique because you were created that way. Look at little children in kindergarten. They’re all different without trying to be. As long as they’re unselfconsciously being themselves, they can’t help but shine. It’s only later, when children are taught to compete, to strive to be better than others, that their natural light becomes distorted. ~ marianne-williamson, @wisdomtrove

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:ZANNA IN THE GARDEN ~ Chris d Lacey,
2:How sociable the garden was. ~ Thom Gunn,
3:I will go to the garden. ~ Robert Creeley,
4:Do not go to the garden of flowers! ~ Kabir,
5:The sunlight on the garden ~ Louis MacNeice,
6:the Garden of Ediacara. ~ Peter Godfrey Smith,
7:The garden is a kind of sanctuary. ~ John Berger,
8:The garden that is finished is dead. ~ H E Bates,
9:In the garden of gentle sanity, ~ Chogyam Trungpa,
10:The body is the garden of the soul. ~ Tony Kushner,
11:Erik Larson’s In the Garden of Beasts, ~ Dean Koontz,
12:Forget the planet, save the garden. ~ Colin Cotterill,
13:Nobody can stay in the Garden of Eden. ~ James Baldwin,
14:(PORTRAIT: Adam and Adam in the Garden) ~ Jandy Nelson,
15:Charity is the entrance to the garden. ~ Seth Adam Smith,
16:The snake stood up for evil in the Garden. ~ Robert Frost,
17:If you rest too long the weeds take the garden. ~ Jim Rohn,
18:Mama worked outside the home — in the garden. ~ Glenn Beck,
19:Success is buried in the garden of failure. ~ Rick Wakeman,
20:To the garden of the world anew descending, ~ Walt Whitman,
21:We, the garden of technology. We, undecidable. ~ John Cage,
22:And Spring arose on the garden fair, ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley,
23:Perhaps it is the key to the garden! ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
24:Feare keepes the garden better then the gardiner. ~ George Herbert,
25:The garden of the world has no limits, except in your mind. ~ Rumi,
26:Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, ~ Oliver Goldsmith,
27:All of the worlds problems can be solved in the garden ~ Geoff Lawton,
28:Temptation has been here ever since the Garden of Eden. ~ Jerry Falwell,
29:exactly the garden spot of the Garden State. In truth, ~ Janet Evanovich,
30:This is the Garden which you have inherited by your labours. ~ Anonymous,
31:Robertson Ay was sitting in the garden busily doing nothing. ~ P L Travers,
32:The glory of the garden lies in more than meets the eye. ~ Rudyard Kipling,
33:Someone in the garden is delaying the passing of time. ~ Alejandra Pizarnik,
34:To find the right things, we’ll need to go to the garden. ~ Timothy Ferriss,
35:From all of our beginnings, we keep reliving the Garden story. ~ Ann Voskamp,
36:The garden of the world has no limits except in your mind. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi,
37:going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when ~ Lewis Carroll,
38:no better occupation than to look down into the garden. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne,
39:O my friends, plant only flowers of love in the garden of hearts. ~ Baha-ullah,
40:Do not linger in the garden of memories, for there are many traps. ~ Stacey Lee,
41:My cat did that the other day when he came in from the garden. ~ Ann Widdecombe,
42:The garden is an unemployed township-based man's cubicle. ~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana,
43:What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you? ~ Antonio Machado,
44:As to the garden, it seems to me its chief fruit is-blackbirds. ~ William Morris,
45:Prohibition didn't work in the Garden of Eden. Adam ate the apple. ~ Vicente Fox,
46:When you live in the garden of hope, something is always blooming! ~ Joyce Meyer,
47:Rain in the dump makes water filthy. Rain in the garden cleanses. ~ Camron Wright,
48:The Earth is our environment to protect and the garden to tend to. ~ Pope Francis,
49:So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden ~ Thomas C Foster,
50:Patience is the Gnostic's scale and the humble the garden's door. ~ Samael Aun Weor,
51:Change layover the stairs and the kitchen and the garden like fog. ~ Shirley Jackson,
52:In the garden I will die. In the rosebush they will kill me. ~ Federico Garcia Lorca,
53:In the garden of my heart, the flowers of peace bloom beautifully. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
54:And binding with briars my joys & desires. ~ William Blake, The Garden of Love (1866),
55:Meditation is the art removing the weeds from the garden of possibilities. ~ Amit Ray,
56:The cat was on the window ledge, gazing intently into the garden. ~ Diane Setterfield,
57:Those who sit in the house of grief will someday sit in the garden. ~ Gregory Maguire,
58:Go to the meadows, go to the garden, go to the woods. Open your eyes! ~ Albert Hofmann,
59:"In the garden of my heart, the flowers of peace bloom beautifully." ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
60:At the front of my home, in the garden, is a huge piece of clear quartz. ~ Miranda Kerr,
61:The city mouse lives in a house, The garden mouse lives in a bower ~ Christina Rossetti,
62:With the lapse of every moment, the garden grew more picturesque; ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne,
63:For children, most importantly, being in the garden is something magical. ~ Fritjof Capra,
64:I like solitary pursuits, such as reading or pottering about in the garden. ~ Hayley Mills,
65:I pulled myself out of the guard’s arms and ran like a drunk into the garden. ~ Kiera Cass,
66:Nationalism cannot flower if it does not grow in the garden of internationalism. ~ Sukarno,
67:I dined upon a bird, and radishes from the garden, and homemade plum jam. ~ Shirley Jackson,
68:I, you, he, she, we In the garden of mystic lovers, these are not true distinctions. ~ Rumi,
69:Criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the garden of letters. ~ Joseph Conrad,
70:Don’t kill doves in the garden. / You kill one and the others won’t come. ~ Malala Yousafzai,
71:In the garden of your days cultivate festivity, play and celebrations. ~ Mary Anne Radmacher,
72:I was going away, leaving behind me the villa, the garden and that summer. ~ Fran oise Sagan,
73:You have to weed the garden before you can plant flowers, must you not?” I ~ Rhiannon Thomas,
74:If the husband sits on a chair in the Garden of Eden, his wife is his footstool. ~ I L Peretz,
75:The garden suggests there might be a place where we can meet nature halfway. ~ Michael Pollan,
76:Nobody can stay in the garden of Eden," Jacques said. And then: "I wonder why. ~ James Baldwin,
77:Nobody can stay in the garden of Eden,’ Jacques said. And then: ‘I wonder why. ~ James Baldwin,
78:To hold the garden’s fragrance in one vase, And see all autumn in a single spray? ~ Cao Xueqin,
79:The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. ~ Anonymous,
80:The soul of a child is the loveliest flower that grows in the garden of God. ~ Elizabeth George,
81:Wayne's like my son, Brooklyn, who goes out in the garden to play and have fun. ~ David Beckham,
82:A sudden wind thrashed the treetops in the garden, sweeping down from the east. ~ Steven Erikson,
83:Guilt is the first weed we pluck, to keep the garden pretty and smelling sweet. ~ Steven Erikson,
84:I gasp, and I'm Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's the serpent, and I cannot resist. ~ E L James,
85:I, you, he, she, we
In the garden of mystic lovers,
these are not true distinctions. ~ Rumi,
86:We are stardust, we are golden and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden. ~ Joni Mitchell,
87:You look like a butterfly that’s just flown in from the garden,” Hunt said softly. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
88:I call myself, 'The Estee Lauder of the garden world.' I'm my own little conglomerate. ~ C Z Guest,
89:In the garden of tabloid delight, there is always a clean towel and another song. ~ Lewis H Lapham,
90:I teach you to be warriors in the garden so you will never be gardeners in the war. ~ Tomi Adeyemi,
91:The garden is a metaphor for life, and gardening is a symbol of the spiritual path. ~ Larry Dossey,
92:To hold the garden’s fragrance in one vase,
And see all autumn in a single spray? ~ Cao Xueqin,
93:I travel the garden of music, thru inspiration. It's a large, very large garden, seen? ~ Peter Tosh,
94:She had a passionate longing for the garden, the darkness, the pure sky, the stars. ~ Anton Chekhov,
95:The garden of Eden was a boggy swamp just south of Croydon. You can see it over there. ~ Peter Cook,
96:All morning it has been raining.
In the language of the garden, this is happiness. ~ Mary Oliver,
97:As is the garden such is the gardener. A man's nature runs either to herbs or weeds. ~ Francis Bacon,
98:Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.
   ~ Ernest Hemingway, The Garden of Eden,
99:The garden of sarcasm is watered with impatience, and mine chose that moment to bloom. ~ Kevin Hearne,
100:Thy Return is as another Sun to Heaven; a new Rose blooming in the Garden of the Soul. ~ Omar Khayyam,
101:When the world wearies, and society ceases to satisfy, there is always the Garden. ~ Minnie Aumonier,
102:God is entirely and personally present in the wilderness, in the garden, in the field. ~ Martin Luther,
103:How many Zen masters does it take to screw in a light bulb? The plum tree in the garden! ~ Brad Warner,
104:Trade-offs have been with us ever since the late unpleasantness in the Garden of Eden. ~ Thomas Sowell,
105:When God created the Garden of Eden,
She became the first permaculturalist. ~ Khang Kijarro Nguyen,
106:You’re going to de-gnome the garden for me; they’re getting completely out of hand again ~ J K Rowling,
107:No guru, no method, no teacher, just you and I and nature, and the father in the garden. ~ Van Morrison,
108:The garden is a miraculous place, and anything can happen on a beautiful moonlit night. ~ William Joyce,
109:This practice of yoga is to remove the weeds from the body so that the garden can grow. ~ B K S Iyengar,
110:Sin has driven us out of the garden, but grace drives us right into the Father’s arms. ~ Paul David Tripp,
111:Birds' voices and the grove's moody colours offer Immortality when we enter the garden ~ ~ Jalaluddin Rumi,
112:Patience will be rewarded, the garden reminded me. Why was it so hard to listen sometimes? ~ Loretta Nyhan,
113:These days, you could stage a three-point orgy in the garden and nobody would bat an eye... ~ Angela Carter,
114:- Nothing. Although they are flowers you did not count on, they are still part of the garden. ~ Paulo Coelho,
115:The garden, by design, is concerned with both the interior and the land beyond the garden ~ Stephen Gardiner,
116:A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree which bore golden apples. ~ Jacob Grimm,
117:He’s back!” said George. “Dad’s home!” They hurried through the garden and back into the house. ~ J K Rowling,
118:Locke sank into a swoon; The Garden died; God took the spinning-jenny Out of his side. ~ William Butler Yeats,
119:There was always something sly about any act of education. Eve had learned that in the garden. ~ Paul Russell,
120:Unless the Gardener was visiting you, darkness in the Garden was the closest we got to truth. ~ Dot Hutchison,
121:And love, who can say the way it winds.. like a serpent in the garden of our untroubled minds ~ Daniel Handler,
122:A soul is a troublesome possession, and when man developed it he lost the Garden of Eden. ~ W Somerset Maugham,
123:Everything in the garden became suddenly vivid as if some general membrane had been peeled away. ~ Mark Haddon,
124:It's the gloomy things that need our help, if everything in the garden is sunny, why meddle? ~ Julian Fellowes,
125:Secrecy is the original sin. The fig leaf in the Garden of Eden. The basic crime against love. ~ Timothy Leary,
126:There is so much jasmine and nightshade in the garden that we all wake with lyrical headaches. ~ Frances Mayes,
127:Women have been deceiving men since the Garden of Eden. They’ve had centuries of practice. ~ Michael Schmicker,
128:I am agnostic only to the extent that I am agnostic about fairies at the bottom of the garden ~ Richard Dawkins,
129:(Nature provides the seed; man provides the garden; each is grateful for the other’s help.) ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,
130:You never know what’s going to be in the garden in June when you’re looking at it in January. ~ Corey Ann Haydu,
131:And don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous. ~ Rumi,
132:Ever since his fall in the Garden of Eden, man has listened to his desires more than his reason. ~ Jerry Bridges,
133:If her time had been her own, she would have worked in the garden. That always soothed her spirits. ~ Anne Tyler,
134:In the beginning was the dog the real name of Jehovah is Rover. Adam's rib is buried in the garden ~ John Hegley,
135:The house was silent, but somewhere in the garden was a swimming pool filled with unsettled water. ~ J G Ballard,
136:The lawnmower is the most dangerous item in the garden. The second most dangerous is the flowerpot. ~ John Lloyd,
137:This town is like Gone with the Wind on mescaline!" From Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil. ~ John Berendt,
138:A great challenge: stop ruining the garden which God has entrusted to us so that all may enjoy it. ~ Pope Francis,
139:A phrase from Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil came to mind: “Two tears in a bucket. Motherfuck it. ~ Zane,
140:That's what depression had wrought inside me: one, vast, barren rock garden-without the garden ~ Peter McWilliams,
141:The rich fruit of spontaneity grows in the garden that is well tended by the discipline of schedule. ~ John Piper,
142:Your deepest, most constant need is for My Peace. I have planted Peace in the garden of your heart, ~ Sarah Young,
143:Beauty is the garden scent of roses, murmuring water flowing gently...Can words describe the indescribable? ~ Rumi,
144:When I'm looking for an idea, I'll do anything--clean the closet, mow the lawn, work in the garden. ~ Kevin Henkes,
145:I would have stayed forever within the garden of Re-mose's childhood, but time is a mother's enemy. ~ Anita Diament,
146:There is no time in human history when you were more perfectly represented than in the Garden of Eden. ~ R C Sproul,
147:There's always the hyena of morality at the garden gate, and the real wolf at the end of the street. ~ D H Lawrence,
148:We're all assigned a piece of the garden, a corner of the universe that is ours to transform. ~ Marianne Williamson,
149:I had a moment of clarity, saw the feeling in the heart of things, walked out to the garden crying. ~ Allen Ginsberg,
150:Just what I need. My own personal shoulder devil, wearing black and smelling like the Garden of Eden. ~ Kim Harrison,
151:Lord, in this sweet eventide walk with me in the garden, and teach me the wisdom of faith. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,
152:So what is keeping you out of the Garden? Your fear and desire: that which the Buddha transcended. ~ Joseph Campbell,
153:A lot of people have no idea that right now Y.A. (young adult). is the Garden of Eden of literature. ~ Sherman Alexie,
154:Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden. ~ William Shakespeare,
155:wished that I could also find “no better occupation than to look down into the garden” beneath my window, ~ Anonymous,
156:But in the garden of simple, where all of us are nameless, you were never anything but beautiful to me. ~ Ani DiFranco,
157:I live alone, with cats, books, pictures, fresh vegetables to cook, the garden, the hens to feed. ~ Jeanette Winterson,
158:Seconds slowed and passed before Nicholas's mind's eye like a parade of snails upon the garden path. ~ Raymond E Feist,
159:That there are no troubles in life that can't be sorted through or solved by spending time in the garden ~ Karen White,
160:...and I went into the garden and lay down and looked at the stars in the sky and made myself negligible. ~ Mark Haddon,
161:At night, the creature that was the Garden peeled back its synthetic skin to show the skeleton beneath. ~ Dot Hutchison,
162:In the Garden of Eden Eve showed more courage than Adam.. when the serpent offered the forbidden fruit. ~ Cesare Borgia,
163:Not since the serpent
approached Eve in the Garden had a woman been so tempted by forbidden fruit. ~ Teresa Medeiros,
164:So he went on, tearing up all the flowers from the garden of his soul, and setting his heel upon them. ~ Upton Sinclair,
165:And when wind and winter harden All the loveless land, It will whisper of the garden, You will understand. ~ Oscar Wilde,
166:Did perpetual happiness in the Garden of Eden maybe get so boring that eating the apple was justified? ~ Chuck Palahniuk,
167:In a riddle whose answer is chess, what is the only prohibited word?
   ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
168:In the garden of gentle sanity May you be bombarded by coconuts of wakefulness. —CHÖGYAM TRUNGPA RINPOCHE ~ Pema Ch dr n,
169:Mizzy has, again, wandered into the garden, like a child who feels no fealty to adult conversation. ~ Michael Cunningham,
170:The garden has taught me to live, to appreciate the times when things are fallow and when they're not. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
171:In the garden of literature, the highest and the most charismatic flowers are always the quotations. ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
172:It's over the garden wall and we're going to see the Wizard, come what may and hell to pay.
-Elphaba ~ Gregory Maguire,
173:We've have to heed our Biblical obligation to be good stewards of the Earth after leaving the Garden of Eden. ~ Van Jones,
174:Adam, who said to our Lord in the Garden of Eden, I got more ribs - you got more broads? Never got a dinner! ~ Red Buttons,
175:In the garden of literature, the highest and the most charismatic flowers are always the quotations. ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
176:Remember, the serpent is still living in the Garden of Eden. Only the heterosexual couple was expelled. ~ Edward Carpenter,
177:But for one's health as you say, it is very necessary to work in the garden and see the flowers growing. ~ Vincent Van Gogh,
178:He felt it deep, like a stone too big to heft out of the garden. He just had to how around it and make do. ~ Gary D Schmidt,
179:It has become much harder, in the past century, to tell where the garden leaves off and pure nature begins. ~ Michael Pollan,
180:Lost in these imaginary illusions I forgot my destiny - that of the hunted.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
181:What matters it, O breeze, If now has come the spring When I have lost them both The garden and my nest? ~ William Dalrymple,
182:“And don’t think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It’s quiet, but the roots are down there riotous.” ~ Jalaluddin Rumi,
183:I like to go for a walk or swimming or in the garden when I can. It's a busy kind of life, but I guess I'm lucky. ~ Brian May,
184:Kind hearts are the garden, kind thoughts are the roots, kind words are the blossoms, kind deeds are the fruit. ~ John Ruskin,
185:We can never be like lillies in the garden unless we have spent time as bulbs in the dark, totally ignored. ~ Oswald Chambers,
186:It is a golden maxim to cultivate the garden for the nose, and the eyes will take care of themselves. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
187:This will be Great Mam's last spring. Her last June apples. Her last fresh roasting ears from the garden. ~ Barbara Kingsolver,
188:You can drive the devil out of your garden but you will find him again in the garden of your son. ~ Johann Heinrich Pestalozzi,
189:Earth is a flower in the Garden of Cosmos! And therefore, a flower on Earth is a flower within the flower! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
190:Beauty is what I feel my life is about - the garden, the house, whatever. I see the world that way, yet it isn't. ~ Julie Newmar,
191:Zoya of the lost city. Zoya of the garden. Zoya bleeding in the snow. You are strong enough to survive the fall. ~ Leigh Bardugo,
192:Fawcett once described fear as the 'motive power of all evil' which had 'excluded humanity from the Garden of Eden. ~ David Grann,
193:The cyborg would not recognize the garden of Eden; it is not made of mud and cannot dream of returning to dust. ~ Donna J Haraway,
194:The real wealth of a good gardener is not his salary but the marvellous flowers he is raising in the garden! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
195:When bad things happen, it's the time when you get to work in the garden and sort out the pots from the weeds. ~ Elizabeth Hurley,
196:if anything, you may think of me as Adam without his Eve, cast out of the Garden with no hope of ever returning. ~ Michael R Hicks,
197:The cicadas, as if they were wired on the same circuit, suddenly filled the garden with a loud burst of celebration. ~ Peter Carey,
198:unreadable. “I’ve always said my mother is the biggest bitch on the hill, and the kindest flower in the garden. ~ Lisa Renee Jones,
199:If we descended from space aliens, that's just as viable as Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, as far as I'm concerned. ~ Jon Gries,
200:Take a walk through the garden of forgiveness and pick a flower of forgiveness for everything you have ever done. ~ Stephen Richards,
201:We are kept out of the Garden by our own fear and desire in relation to what we think to be the goods of our life. ~ Joseph Campbell,
202:Afterwards they went down the garden together to pick peas for supper, and to dream their dreams in the summer dusk. ~ Barbara Comyns,
203:A loving Personality dominates the Bible, walking among the trees of the garden and breathing fragrance over every scene. ~ A W Tozer,
204:Line of control must be renamed as garden of love and the barbed wire fencing should be replaced by the garden of flowers. ~ Amit Ray,
205:No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden. ~ Thomas Jefferson,
206:My heart rushes into the garden, joyfully tasting all the delights. But reason frowns, disapproving of the heart's bad manners. ~ Rumi,
207:Perhaps the dead forget their lives in the calm of the Garden of Heaven. Perhaps that forgetting is itself what Heaven is. ~ John Wray,
208:It was not the apple on the tree but the pair on the ground that caused the trouble in the garden of Eden. ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
209:It was the garden of a man who wanted to rule the world but couldn’t, and so had cut the world down to his own size. ~ Anthony Horowitz,
210:Or do ye think that ye shall enter the Garden of Bliss without such trials as came to those who passed away before you? ~ Koran, 2:214,
211:Dead drunk and cold-sober, he wandered out into the garden in the cool of the evening, awaiting the coming of the Lord. ~ Peter De Vries,
212:Do you want to flourish in the garden of life? Life's gardeners pluck the weeds and care only for the productive plants. ~ Bryant McGill,
213:Even the garden of Eden was just a big fancy cage...You'll be a slave the rest of your life unless you bite the apple. ~ Chuck Palahniuk,
214:I am the call of love....
Can you hear me in the full grasses, in the scented winds ?
It is I who makes the garden smile. ~ Rumi,
215:The April winds are magical, And thrill our tuneful frames; The garden-walks are passional To bachelors and dames. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
216:...with each new book of mine I have always the feeling that this time I have picked a lemon in the garden of literature. ~ P G Wodehouse,
217:2The woman said to the serpent, “We may eat fruit from the trees in the garden, 3but God did say, ‘You must not eat fruit from ~ Anonymous,
218:He gave me a slice of honeycomb, and shooed me into the garden, where the raspberries snarled along the white gate. And ~ Jonathan Strahan,
219:there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,
220:Well, I don't use the toilet much to pee in. I almost always pee in the yard or the garden, because I like to pee on my estate. ~ Iggy Pop,
221:After a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when ~ Anonymous,
222:God is a God who has not given up on His people. If He wanted to give up, He would have given up back in the Garden of Eden. ~ Kirk Cameron,
223:Hyacinth bean and papayas, long vines, deep roots. Palm trees outside the garden walls, with deep roots, stand a thousand years. ~ Lisa See,
224:vow to speak purely and lovingly. When my mouth is fragrant with right speech, a flower blooms in the garden of my heart. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
225:#WednesdayWisdomAnd don't think the garden loses its ecstasy in winter. It's quiet, but the roots are down there riotous. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi,
226:...when all the time it was that grand tree, taking up half the garden with its roots and not allowing anything else to grow. ~ Zadie Smith,
227:Beauty was worth
Its every sorrow, mind's fading or World's ending,
As darkness covered the garden that is the earth. ~ Hayden Carruth,
228:Love is like a beautiful flower which I may not touch, but whose fragrance makes the garden a place of delight just the same. ~ Helen Keller,
229:We've got a wood-burning pizza oven in the garden - a luxury, I know, but it's one of the best investments I've ever made. ~ Gwyneth Paltrow,
230:When God created the Garden of Eden,
She didn’t use synthetic fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides and GMO apples. ~ Khang Kijarro Nguyen,
231:And priests in black gowns were walking their rounds and binding with briars my joys and desires. (from 'The Garden of Love') ~ William Blake,
232:It is the garden of peace you seek, but it is not a tangible place that exists in the world — it is within. Go there, within. ~ Bryant McGill,
233:We are each called to go through life reclaiming the planet an inch at a time until the Garden of Eden grows green again. ~ Joan D Chittister,
234:Whoever you are and wherever you come from, you grew into your present shape and form in the garden of your early childhood. ~ A S A Harrison,
235:And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden, You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden. ~ Rudyard Kipling,
236:The camera has its own kind of consciousness; in the lens the Garden of Eden itself would become ever so slightly too perfect. ~ Arthur Miller,
237:Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to the Smith. To the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful. ~ C S Lewis,
238:We don't live in the Garden. We live far from Eden. Every life is full of heartaches. Every life, frankly, is unspeakably sad. ~ John Eldredge,
239:You are exactly like a lunatic who should walk in the garden in the pouring rain and hold up an umbrella while he watered a plant. ~ Anonymous,
240:I called it the garden room because it had a white wooden bed, pale green carpet, and wallpaper decorated with vines and flowers. ~ Mary Simses,
241:So how would I do it again if I were to cater for the children in the garden rather than merely tolerate them? I would make places. ~ Monty Don,
242:The floating pollen seemed to be his notes made visible, and the dampness of the garden the weeping of the garden's sensibility. ~ Thomas Hardy,
243:The garden of Dr. Harden was full of sunshine and bosomed with Japanese magnolia trees dropping pink tears over the grass. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
244:The summer has ended. The garden withers. The mornings become chill. I am thirty, I am thirty-four–the years turn dry as leaves. ~ James Salter,
245:We are like every single plant and stone and view in the garden, I thought, the distance between one another carefully measured. ~ Tan Twan Eng,
246:The garden looks wonderful, Mama," I would always say when we arrived back at the house.
"It's chaos, darling."
"I like chaos. ~ Eva Rice,
247:The summer has ended. The garden withers. The mornings become chill. I am thirty, I am thirty-four -the years turn dry as leaves. ~ James Salter,
248:142Did you think you would enter the Garden without God first proving which of you would struggle for His cause and remain steadfast? ~ Anonymous,
249:Blood for the garden, young David,” she said in that smoky, patronizing blackbird voice of hers. “We always need blood for the garden. ~ S A Hunt,
250:The Garden of Eden, no doubt, looked fair before man was, but I always think that it must have been fairer when Eve adorned it. ~ H Rider Haggard,
251:The terrace and the whole place, the lawn and the garden beyond it, all I could see of the park, were empty with a great emptiness. ~ Henry James,
252:You have planted many seeds in the garden of possibilities. Meditation is the art removing the weeds from the garden of possibilities. ~ Amit Ray,
253:My heart rushes into the garden,
joyfully tasting all the delights.
But reason frowns, disapproving
of the heart's bad manners. ~ Rumi,
254:To counter-balance the natural humility of motherhood, I garden ... In the garden, more than any place, I really feel successful. ~ Glenda Jackson,
255:I will admit you are the finest if not the loveliest rose in the garden. But you see, my dear, I was looking for a sunflower. ~ Richelle E Goodrich,
256:think of those flowers you plant in the garden each year they will teach you that people too must wilt fall root rise in order to bloom ~ Rupi Kaur,
257:Mistletoe," said Kian, leading me to a spot in the center of the garden. He kissed me softly. "I hear it means something in your world. ~ Kailin Gow,
258:Man was exiled from the Garden for eating a single fruit, and now you propose to uproot the whole tree without the angels noticing. ~ G Willow Wilson,
259:As for the garden of mint, the very smell of it alone recovers and refreshes our spirits, as the taste stirs up our appetite for meat. ~ Pliny the Elder,
260:For fountains, they are a Great Beauty and Refreshment, but Pools mar all, and make the Garden unwholesome, and full of Flies and Frogs. ~ Francis Bacon,
261:I’m not the kind of person who tries to explain a thing that has no explanation so I went to the garden and I pulled things out of it, ~ Catherine Lacey,
262:Where the pond's an open secret, where apple-trees whisper of waves, where the garden hanging on piles, holds the sky before its face. ~ Boris Pasternak,
263:You can spend your whole life traveling around the world searching for the Garden of Eden, or you can create it in your backyard. ~ Khang Kijarro Nguyen,
264:In the garden of dreams, there are many great seeds of possibilities waiting to sprout - looking for your attention - the water and the light. ~ Amit Ray,
265:Little by little, even with other cares, the slowly but surely working poison of the garden-mania begins to stir in my long-sluggish veins. ~ Henry James,
266:What brilliant criminals the Leader and his crowd are. They kidnap the nation by seizing our children.

From The Garden of Beasts. ~ Jeffery Deaver,
267:When those who have the title of shepherd play the part of wolves,” said Lothar of Saxony, “heresy grows in the garden of the Church. ~ Barbara W Tuchman,
268:All I really want is enough to live on, a little house in the country... and a tree in the garden with seven of my enemies hanging in it. ~ Heinrich Heine,
269:The first one that I went to with my friends was with my buddy Michael - and we actually cut class to get tickets - was INXS at the Garden. ~ Adam Richman,
270:It seemed incredible that this day, a day without warnings or omens, might be that of my implacable death.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
271:She abandoned the garden, and the mums and asters that had trusted her to see them through to the first frost hung their waterlogged heads. ~ Nicole Krauss,
272:We have all been expelled from the Garden, but the ones who suffer most in exile are those who are still permitted to dream of perfection. ~ Stanley Kunitz,
273:And my wildly troubled love for you, which labored gently in the garden all through June, then tore the flowers up with its fists in July. ~ Laura Kasischke,
274:I did a concert at five years old in the garden of one of the church members, and we raised some money to buy a new piano in our little church. ~ Al Jarreau,
275:In the Garden of Eden Adam saw the animals before he named them: in the traditional system, children named the animals before they saw them.1 ~ Alan W Watts,
276:Taste every fruit of every tree in the garden at least once. It is an insult to creation not to experience it fully. Temperance is wickedness. ~ Stephen Fry,
277:Children are a gift from the Lord, Jashub, but not essential to a union. The love between husband and wife was God's first gift in the garden. ~ Mesu Andrews,
278:O Lower self, which is better, the Garden of eternity or a glimpse of this world's unlawful bounty and its wretched, fleeting rubbish? ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,
279:We will this year gather celestial fruits on earthly ground, where faith and hope have made the desert like the garden of the Lord. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,
280:so i sneak out to the garden to see you, we keep quiet 'cause we're dead if they knew, so close your eyes, escape this town for a little while. ~ Taylor Swift,
281:Can you tell the story of redemption in one sentence? Sin has driven us out of the garden, but grace drives us right into the Father’s arms. ~ Paul David Tripp,
282:Ere Babylon was dust, The Magus Zoroaster, my dead child, Met his own image walking in the garden, That apparition, sole of men, he saw. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley,
283:A miraculous healing awaits this planet once we accept our new responsibility to collectively tend the Garden, rather than fight over the turf. ~ Bruce H Lipton,
284:I am Valentino Rossi. If I stay in MotoGP it is to try to win. When that is not possible it is time to stay at home and work in the garden! ~ Valentino Garavani,
285:We've been doing something every year. We had a rock concert a few years ago to benefit the Garden of Dreams. And then we had the mask event. ~ Henrik Lundqvist,
286:Adam hid in the Garden of Eden. Moses tried to substitute his brother. Jonah jumped a boat and was swallowed by a whale. Man likes to run from God. ~ Mitch Albom,
287:Realism absorbs the ideal by adding a few small imperfections. Example: it paints a few specks of mud on the white gown of the Lady in the Garden. ~ Mason Cooley,
288:I could be the little match girl and strike my illusions against the wall, lost in the warmth until the glow faded and left me back in the Garden. ~ Dot Hutchison,
289:The garden of #love is green w/o limit & yields many fruits other than sorrow & #joy. ~ Jalaluddin Rumi pic.twitter.com/vwvkIFXbHE #JoyTrain RT @VegyPower,
290:The garden where you sit
Has never a need of flowers,
For you are the blossoms
And only a fool or the blind
Would fail to know it ~ Louis de Berni res,
291:At night the Garden was a place of shadows and moonlight, where you could more clearly hear all the illusions that went into making it what it was. ~ Dot Hutchison,
292:I love planting. I love digging holes, putting plants in, tapping them in. And I love weeding, but I don't like tidying up the garden afterwards. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
293:when man was put into the garden of eden, he was put there with the idea that he should work the land; and this proves that man was not born to be idle. ~ Voltaire,
294:I cry when I work in the garden, because the Sun, the rain, the wind and the Earth all work together to make us food and flowers. It just blows me away. ~ Robin Lim,
295:I will go where I will go
And I will jettison all dead weight
And I will use these words for kindling
And I will sleep by the garden gate. ~ John Darnielle,
296:Mottled light swept the garden, creating an
illusion of movement. The air rippled, on the edge of hearing, with the bittersweet song of a wingen. ~ Janalyn Voigt,
297:She would drink until the trembling stopped. Then she would wilt over the piano like one of Celia's spinaches when Tam Lin forgot to water the garden. ~ Nancy Farmer,
298:After all these years, I see that I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning; it is better to live outside the Garden with her than inside it without her. ~ Mark Twain,
299:And is this all?" cried Elizabeth. "I expected at least that the pigs were got into the garden, and here is nothing but Lady Catherine and her daughter. ~ Jane Austen,
300:As I walked into the garden, I nodded at my brother. A difficult childhood is like an invisible enemy, I thought. You never know when it will strike. ~ Benedict Wells,
301:I am writing in the garden. To write as one should of a garden one must write not outside it or merely somewhere near it, but in the garden. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
302:Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless ~ Lewis Carroll,
303:Suddenly it seemed as if he might a sort of wood fairy who might be gone when she came into the garden again. He seemed too good to be true. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
304:That's why there are ten gates to pass through before you reach the garden. If life were easy there would be one gate. There would be no gates at all. ~ Alice Hoffman,
305:When someone walks into my room and goes 'wow' at my record collection, at that moment I could actually hate music and just want to go sit in the garden. ~ Erol Alkan,
306:Birds are flying over the garden. What are you doing inside the house? Join them! If you can’t join them, at least open the window and greet them! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
307:But evil has been around since the Garden of Eden, and God's plan for victory was designed before the world began. The Bible tells us to fear no evil. ~ David Jeremiah,
308:Disappointments are like weeds in the garden. You can let them grow and take over your life, or you can rout them out and let the flowers sprout. ~ Wanda E Brunstetter,
309:My dad got me a chemistry book one Christmas and I burnt the garden shed down. I remember there was the most beautiful smell forever after in the remains. ~ Beth Orton,
310:He doesn't say goodbye," Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. "He just lets go. ~ Leigh Bardugo,
311:It was not the sun, but the moonlight that shimmered in the garden, edging the leaves with silver and touching the outlines of the statuary figures. ~ Diane Setterfield,
312:I was a tomboy running around in the garden. I used to play on a local cricket team. I grew up with all boy cousins, for the most part, and my brother. ~ Felicity Jones,
313:Everything in the garden is dying, that’s what time of year it is. The leaves blaze and desiccate in their dying before twisting to the ground as ash. ~ Colson Whitehead,
314:I slunk off in direction of the cocktail table - the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
315:No one since the Garden of Eden - which the serpent forsook in order to run for higher office - has imputed to politicians great purity of motive. ~ William F Buckley Jr,
316:Paradise is precarious. Just one little thing …” He mimes a little shove. “Can push it into imbalance. It didn’t take much to screw up the Garden of Eden. ~ Chuck Wendig,
317:The garden of the world has no limits Except in your mind. Its presence is more beautiful than the stars With more clarity Than the polished mirror of your heart. ~ Rumi,
318:The garden of the world has no limits except in your mind. Its presence is more beautiful than the stars with more clarity than the polished mirror of your heart. ~ Rumi,
319:The great challenge for the garden designer is not to make the garden look natural, but to make the garden so that the people in it will feel natural. ~ Lawrence Halprin,
320:When I'm writing, I think about the garden, and when I'm in the garden I think about writing. I do a lot of writing by putting something in the ground. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
321:Adam was not alone in the Garden of Eden, however, and does not deserve all the credit; much is due to Eve, the first woman, and Satan, the first consultant. ~ Mark Twain,
322:Our days are numbered in the book of days, Most High," Gorgon murmurs as the garden comes once more into view. "That is what gives them sweetness and purpose. ~ Libba Bray,
323:We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest.
   ~ Voltaire,
324:There needs to be time for efficient data collection and time for inefficient contemplation, time to operate the machine and time to sit idly in the garden. ~ Nicholas Carr,
325:... there was a part of me that wanted to be liked, and despite all my years of reporting, I never quite adjusted to the role of skunk at the garden party. ~ Andrea Mitchell,
326:Walking out into the garden, Sangita sat on the grass to relish her coffee, enjoying the light warmth of the early morning sunrays in the cool weather. ~ Sundari Venkatraman,
327:Let whoever wants to, relax in the south, And bask in the garden of paradise. Here is the essence of north—and it's autumn I've chosen as this year's friend. ~ Anna Akhmatova,
328:...the moon that hung over the garden like some great priceless pearl, flawed and blemished with grey shadowy ridges as only a very great beauty can risk being. ~ Anita Desai,
329:Going out to the garden is to go on a holiday; when you travel amongst the flowers, your body touches heaven and your mind tastes the secrets of ataraxia! ~ Mehmet Murat ildan,
330:Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom ~ Rumi,
331:Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life's search for love and wisdom. ~ Rumi,
332:He is out in the garden, picking a bouquet of foxgloves. He’s laughing, sunlight turning his brown hair gold… I bet he doesn’t even know those flowers are poison. ~ Holly Black,
333:The best ideas come unexpectedly from a conversation or a common activity like watering the garden. These can get lost or slip away if not acted on when they occur. ~ Ruth Asawa,
334:A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. It would be horribly selfish if it wanted all the other flowers in the garden to be both red and roses. ~ Oscar Wilde,
335:From as young as I can remember, I always wanted to be a singer... My mum taught me 'Going Down the Garden to Eat Worms' for a competition when I was about 4. ~ Katherine Jenkins,
336:In a reality known as the garden of beautiful eden,
Adam is dreaming about his sinful children on earth.
He is struggling to wake up from a terrible nightmare. ~ Toba Beta,
337:It's her way of keeping Mariam close awhile yet before time has its way, before it snatches Mariam from the garden of her memory like a weed pulled by its roots. ~ Khaled Hosseini,
338:We have descended into the garden and caught three hundred slugs. How I love the mixture of the beautiful and the squalid in gardening. It makes it so lifelike. ~ Evelyn Underhill,
339:Adam hid in the Garden of Eden. Moses tried to substitute his brother. Jonah jumped a boat and was swallowed by a whale...Man likes to run from God. It's a tradition. ~ Mitch Albom,
340:A Tory minister can sleep in ten different women's beds in a week. A Labour minister gets it in the neck if he looks at his neighbour's wife over the garden fence. ~ Clement Attlee,
341:if i am the only one who can be the wilderness then let me be the wilderness the tree trunk cannot become the branch the jungle cannot become the garden so why should i ~ Rupi Kaur,
342:I slunk
off in the direction of the cocktail table—the only place in
the garden where a single man could linger without looking
purposeless and alone. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
343:Kitten is in the animal world what the rosebud is in the garden; the one the most beautiful of all young creatures, the other the loveliest of all opening flowers. ~ Robert Southey,
344:No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, no culture comparable to that of the garden...But though an old man, I am but a young gardener. ~ Thomas Jefferson,
345:What would become of the garden if the gardener treated all the weeds and slugs and birds and trespassers as he would like to be treated, if he were in their place? ~ Thomas Huxley,
346:You desire the end but close your eyes to the means. You want the garden to be beautiful, provided that the smell of manure is kept well away from your fastidious nose. ~ P D James,
347:God gives us Her own self. Left to my own devices, I would prefer answers. This is why it is good that I am in charge of so little: the pets, the shopping, the garden. ~ Anne Lamott,
348:The Red Sox are a religion. Every year we re-enact the agony and the temptation in the Garden. Baseball child's play? Hell, up here in Boston it's a passion play. ~ George V Higgins,
349:God does not lie in our collective past, God lies in our collective future; the Garden of Eden is tomorrow, not yetsterday; the Golden Age lies down the road, not up it. ~ Ken Wilber,
350:Hippie types who hadn’t a clue about makeup, knew how to start a fire, and weren’t afraid to get their hands dirty in the garden. I’d missed these people. My people. ~ Stephanie Land,
351:His pain in the garden became power in the tomb! His crucifixion on the cross became the defeat of death. His broken body became the resurrection hope for the world. ~ Lysa TerKeurst,
352:I teach you to be warriors in the garden so you will never be gardeners in the war. I give you the strength to fight, but you all must learn the strength of restraint. ~ Tomi Adeyemi,
353:The garden is an unhappy place for the perfectionist. Too much stands beyond our control here, and the only thing we can absolutely count on is eventual catastrophe. ~ Michael Pollan,
354:The garden of love is green without limit and yields many fruits other than sorrow or joy. Love is beyond either condition: without spring, without autumn, it is always fresh. ~ Rumi,
355:This is the centre of the gospel - this is what the Garden of Gethsemane and Good Friday are all about - that God has done astonishing and costly things to draw us near. ~ John Piper,
356:Are we to believe that Adam and Eve actually heard God’s footsteps rustling in the garden of Eden, as the text suggests, when it says that Adam and Eve hid themselves, ~ Elaine Pagels,
357:It's full of festering poison, this place, and it looks as peaceful and as innocent as the Garden of Eden."
"Even there," said Owen drily, "there was one serpent. ~ Agatha Christie,
358:Joe Frazier's life didn't start with Ali. I was a Golden Gloves champ. Gold medal in Tokyo '64. Heavyweight champion of the world long before I fought Ali in the Garden. ~ Joe Frazier,
359:Let whoever wants to, relax in the south,
And bask in the garden of paradise.
Here is the essence of north—and it's autumn
I've chosen as this year's friend. ~ Anna Akhmatova,
360:Perhaps one day it will be taken for granted that we should help every living creature, the trees, the bushes and flowers, yes even the earth, the soil. The Garden of Eden. ~ Uwe Timm,
361:There are dead girls to mourn, and living girls who will struggle for years to adjust to life outside the Garden, if they even can. He still counts this as a good day. ~ Dot Hutchison,
362:If you can’t smell the fragrance don’t come into the garden of Love. If you’re unwilling to undress don’t enter into the stream of Truth. Stay where you are. Don’t come our way. ~ Rumi,
363:In the garden of our house, when I was three. My brothers and I had a jumping wall. I remember it as enormously high, but it was probably only about a foot and a half. ~ Juliet Stevenson,
364:Let's smuggle cider into the garden of Eden? Adam's apples are shite. Eve's cool. She calls it a SCAM. Smuggling Cocaine, Alcohol and Marijuana. But is the snake a grass? ~ Robert Sabbag,
365:Nike told me, 'We can't give you royalties because you're not a professional athlete.' I told them 'I'll go to the Garden and play one-on-no-one.' I'm a performance athlete! ~ Kanye West,
366:The Garden is a metaphor for the following: our minds, and our thinking in terms of pairs of opposites--man and woman, good and evil--are as holy as that of a god. (50) ~ Joseph Campbell,
367:Tom and I sit on a bench in the garden to watch the moon melt in an arc below the horizon as fast as ice on a warm hand before we can call the others to witness its exit. ~ Marion Coutts,
368:The seeds for the Garden were planted in 1973 by a group of volunteers who saw promise in a stretch of Piedmont Park that housed Atlanta’s greenhouses and a number of gardens. ~ Anonymous,
369:And to her, love was as big as the rocks on her ring and earrings, as wide as the garden that accommodated her guests, and as deep as the blue blood that ran in her veins. ~ Cinelle Barnes,
370:Below these words was the garden’s name in English: EVENING MISTS. I felt I was about to enter a place that existed only in the overlapping of air and water, light and time. ~ Tan Twan Eng,
371:The darkness was the foundation that everything else was built on. The garden where the universe grew. The simplest, most basic thing in existence. And it was spectacular. ~ Sharon Bayliss,
372:The garden stretched out in a soft drift, colors jumbled any way, an unmade bed of red and yellow and pink. Then came the trees. Apple, plum, and the Japanese black pine. ~ Cathleen Schine,
373:When I have trouble writing, I step outside my studio into the garden and pull weeds until my mind clears--I find weeding to be the best therapy there is for writer's block. ~ Irving Stone,
374:When I sat on a camp stool in the garden in a black coat with a black flap hat I felt like a marble guest who had returned from times long past into a strange world. ~ Daniel Paul Schreber,
375:When they have opened a gap in the ... wall of separation between the Garden of the Church and the wildernes of the world, God hath ever ... made his Garden a Wildernesse. ~ Roger Williams,
376:With a great effort the Don opened his eyes to see his son once more. He smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, "Life is so beautiful. ~ Mario Puzo,
377:I sometimes think that never blows so red
The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled;
That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. ~ Omar Khayy m,
378:just as you would not neglect seeds that you planted with hope that they will bear vegetables and fruits and flowers so you must attend to nourish the garden of your becoming. ~ Jean Houston,
379:Not only must we follow the golden thread towards spiritual freedom, but we must also unravel the garden-variety twine that is wrapped tightly around our hearts and minds. ~ Elizabeth Lesser,
380:So who is guilty? Everyone, or no one? Why should the worker assigned to the gas chamber be guiltier than the worker assigned to the boilers, the garden, the vehicles? The ~ Jonathan Littell,
381:The master of the garden is the one who waters it, trims the branches, plants the seeds, and pulls the weeds. If you merely stroll through the garden, you are but an acolyte. ~ Vera Nazarian,
382:The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt. ~ Robert Frost,
383:They can certainly expect to be very impressed with the technical aspects of the show, fooled and led up the garden path by the story and ultimately have a jolly good laugh! ~ Louise Jameson,
384:When Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, they probably did not fall into a state of original sin, as Saint Augustine believed, but into an agrarian economy. ~ Karen Armstrong,
385:You want to talk about big things, but it's the catches on the garden sheds and the London Zoo cards that give you the footholds; without them you wouldn't know where to start. ~ Nick Hornby,
386:Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.” – Rumi ~ Brian Tracy,
387:I also know that we must cultivate our garden. For when man was put in the Garden of Eden, he was put there ut operaretur eum, to work; which proves that man was not born for rest. ~ Voltaire,
388:It's the sense of walking back into the Garden of Eden or something like that. Where suddenly everything is perfect and you see how you're connected to everything in the world. ~ Larkin Grimm,
389:Just as you would not neglect seeds that you planted with hope that they will bear vegetables and fruits and flowers, so must you attend to nourish the garden of your becoming. ~ Jean Houston,
390:Two trees—knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying. ~ Orson Scott Card,
391:What I love about the currawongs is the way in which they appear from nowhere and, for a brief period, rule the garden's soundscape, only to disappear as quickly as they arrived. ~ John Gould,
392:Got to rush through the garden like every other task we have. If we are trying to add joy to our lives, reliance on paradigms can blind us to the glorious detail of our experience. ~ Anonymous,
393:The Garden trapped me like an animal. The Governess sold me like livestock at an auction. And the mayor and his family would have made me their whore. I am shaking with rage. ~ Kristen Simmons,
394:The place between actual seasons is filled with tiny roses in transition. There are murders and amputations in the garden. There are choirs on the sandy floors beneath oceans. ~ Kate Braverman,
395:There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there aren't any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to fairies? ~ Richard Dawkins,
396:After lunch we went into the garden for coffee and I turned on the Surgeon-General with his graphics, percentages etc. of sick and wounded to entertain the Premier. ~ Douglas Haig 1st Earl Haig,
397:I loved to walk in her garden after dinner; it felt alive, even in the winter. She always told me that rosemary grows in the garden of a strong woman. Hers were like trees. ~ Erica Bauermeister,
398:I think people should maybe just go out into the garden and watch a ladybug crawl across a flower and relax their mind. That's about all you need to know about life, I think. ~ Harland Williams,
399:We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer...then surely we are also permitted doubt. ~ Yann Martel,
400:When you left on Saturday, I felt a horrible void, I saw you everywhere, on the beach, in your room, in the garden: impossible for me to get used to the idea that you had left. ~ Camille Claudel,
401:Adam and Eve used to walk with Me in the garden, before their expulsion from Eden. I want you to walk with Me in the garden of your heart, where I have taken up permanent residence. ~ Sarah Young,
402:A visitor to a garden sees the successes, usually. The gardener remembers mistakes and losses, some for a long time, and imagines the garden in a year, and in an unimaginable future. ~ W S Merwin,
403:the track at the end of the garden with its trains, always taking someone else to somewhere else, reminding me over and over and over, a dozen times a day, that I’m staying put. I ~ Paula Hawkins,
404:A man ought to carry himself in the world as an orange tree would if it could walk up and down in the garden, swinging perfume from every little censer it holds up in the air. ~ Henry Ward Beecher,
405:But there, standing at the entrance to the garden, wearing a khalat the colour of a breaking dawn and that faint smile that meant she knew she was outsmarting someone, was Shazad. ~ Alwyn Hamilton,
406:From December to March, there are for many of us three gardens - the garden outdoors, the garden of pots and bowls in the house, and the garden of the mind's eye. ~ Katharine Sergeant Angell White,
407:He could have set fire to it, the garden was dry enough, and burned it clean—privet, vines, and weeds; but he waited in his rooms through the winter instead, weeping and dreaming. ~ William H Gass,
408:Madam President, speaking here in Dublin Castle it is impossible to ignore the weight of history, as it was yesterday when you and I laid wreaths at the Garden of Remembrance. ~ Queen Elizabeth II,
409:We must all wage an intense, lifelong battle against the constant downward pull. If we relax, the bugs and weeds of negativity will move into the garden and take away everything of value. ~ Jim Rohn,
410:The lime trees were in bloom. But in the early morning only a faint fragrance drifted through the garden, an airy message, an aromatic echo of the dreams during the short summer night. ~ Isak Dinesen,
411:They’d gone walking through the garden that was lit with twinkly lights, and Alex had surprised her with a kiss. And that was the moment she knew she wasn’t going to her hotel alone. ~ Samantha Chase,
412:One does not lash hat lies at a distance. The foibles that we ridicule must at least be a little bit our own. Only then will the work be a part of our own flesh. The garden must be weeded. ~ Paul Klee,
413:And the Spring arose on the garden fair,
Like the Spirit of Love felt everywhere;
And each flower and herb on Earth's dark breast
Rose from the dreams of its wintry rest. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley,
414:Eve tasted the apple in the Garden of Eden in order to slake that intense thirst for knowledge that the simple pleasure of picking flowers and talking to Adam could not satisfy. ~ Elizabeth Cady Stanton,
415:I believe ingratitude is the original sin. I believe if Adam and Eve had been grateful for the garden of Eden they had, they would not have been so focused on the one tree they didn't have. ~ Max Lucado,
416:In the end, I'm only going next door.
To the end of the corridor, into my favorite room.
And from there, out into the garden.
And there I will become light and go wherever I want. ~ Nina George,
417:She rose to her feet and preceded me into the garden twilight. Tall and queenly, the woman of mystery strolled among the silent trees and above her head the myriad stars glowed tenderly. ~ Hermann Hesse,
418:You are necessary to that end, and to me...you are all I have of the garden. You are the image of me and of the One. And if you have wronged, then I have surely repaid your wrong twice over. ~ Tosca Lee,
419:And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and the man and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden. ~ Anonymous,
420:I thought of a labyrinth of labyrinths, of one sinuous spreading labyrinth that would encompass the past and the future and in some way involve the stars.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
421:the same as I do now—you know, cooking, cleaning, gardening—when the weather permits.’ ‘You’ll have to come for Sunday lunch next time and see the garden,’ says Jack. ‘Grace has green fingers. ~ B A Paris,
422:In the Buddhist view... what is keeping us out of the garden is not the jealousy or wrath of any god, but our own instinctive attachment to what we take to be our lives. ~ Joseph Campbell, Myths to Live By,
423:The rain to the wind said,
You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt. ~ Robert Frost,
424:Mindfulness isn’t something we practice only in the meditation hall; we also practice in the kitchen, in the garden, or when we’re on the telephone, driving the car, or washing the dishes. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
425:My friend you must understand that time forks perpetually into countless futures. And in at least one of them I have become your enemy. Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden of Forking Paths (1941) ~ Adrian McKinty,
426:My music is homegrown from the garden of New Orleans. Music is everything to me short of breathing. Music also has a role to lift you up - not to be escapist but to take you out of misery. ~ Allen Toussaint,
427:WESLEY AYERS is the stranger in the halls of the Coronado. He is the Keeper in the garden who shares my secret. He is the boy who reads me books. He is the one who teaches me how to touch. ~ Victoria Schwab,
428:Doing the good deeds is like the grass in the garden. You don't see its growth. But, it does by days. Doing the wicked deeds is like the hone. You don't see its damage. But, it does by days. ~ Gautama Buddha,
429:The garden was crossed by a path of red gravel, edged by a border of thick box, of many years' growth, and of a tone and color that would have delighted the heart of Delacroix, our modern Rubens. ~ Anonymous,
430:Cruelty to punctuation is quite unlegislated: you can get away with pulling the legs off semicolons; shrivelling question marks on the garden path under a powerful magnifying glass; you name it. ~ Lynne Truss,
431:Machines are the opium of the masses. If all the machines in England were thrown into the North Sea tomorrow, we should be back in the Garden of Eden. And the weather would probably improve. ~ Helen Cresswell,
432:The doctor unfurled her wings into Maximum Righteousness Mode. The flaming sword was in her hand. She pointed with it like the archangel casting us out of the garden. “Get your ass back there! ~ Daryl Gregory,
433:The first colours touched the garden, deep green and then deep red – transience was my pigmentation; my roots would never go deep enough anywhere to make me a home or make me secure with love. ~ Graham Greene,
434:The model for me is a touchstone, it is a door which I must break open in order to reach the garden in which I am alone and feel good, even the model exists only for what use I can make of it. ~ Henri Matisse,
435:They let me know that we are here to create and that there’s always enough in the garden, and we must defend that against our fear. We have to be playful as we plant, grow, and co-create. ~ Colette Baron Reid,
436:a while, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! when she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, ~ Lewis Carroll,
437:But I smell the roses not just to remind myself of how lucky I am, but also to wonder how on earth it all happened. I smell the roses to try and figure out how I came to be in the garden at all. ~ Alan Cumming,
438:Like most garden lovers, he could never enjoy the perfection of the garden as much as he wished, because his overzealous eye saw always some imperfection, too minute to be noticed by a stranger. ~ Pearl S Buck,
439:She stood up and her knees wobbled as she walked toward the garden gate. On top of everything else that had gone wrong in her life, she now had to deal with her father succumbing to dementia. ~ Phaedra Patrick,
440:we pulled into the garden center, where “Carol of the Bells” was blaring out of tinny speakers that had been mounted on poles. It was like the kind of music you’d play if Santa was a serial killer. ~ Dan Chaon,
441:When I was still at school, I'd help Dad at the concrete yard he had prior to the garden centre. I was doing things there, like driving the tractors and forklifts, that most kids my age couldn't. ~ Rick Astley,
442:Arin wondered if she would lift her eyes, but wasn’t worried he would be seen in the garden’s shadows.
He knew the law of such things: people in brightly lit places cannot see into the dark. ~ Marie Rutkoski,
443:It was like a miracle. I'm just feeling fabulous. What's incredible is someone has given your life back. I'm out in the garden today. This time last year I was looking out a window at a hospital. ~ Mary Travers,
444:My whole childhood was about being in the garden. It wasn't really a religious place to me. The love I felt there... was in contradiction with what I saw in the streets. It was a different world. ~ Rula Jebreal,
445:swear, since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare. ~ Khaled Hosseini,
446:…the garden gleams with summer jewelry. We live vy simply—but with all the essentials of life well understood & well provided for—hot baths, cold champagne, new peas, & old brandy. ~ Winston S Churchill,
447:The moon has a face like the clock in the hall;
She shines on thieves on the garden wall,
On streets and fields and harbour quays,
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
448:We do God more honor by believing what He has said about Himself and having the courage to come boldly to the throne of grace than by hiding in self-conscious humility among the trees of the garden. ~ A W Tozer,
449:Within days they'd formed an unholy alliance with a foppish young French vampire in the Garden District who had implausibly golden hair and a streak of ruthlessness as wide as the Mississippi ~ Deborah Harkness,
450:If it would make you happy, I could let the staff know you prefer the garden. Then you can come out here at night without being manhandled by the guard. I would prefer if you had one nearby, though. ~ Kiera Cass,
451:The garden was planted four hundred years ago, when the surrounding area was poplar." The woman makes a sweeping gesture, and he nods in appreciation.
"And now," Less says, "it's unpoplar. ~ Andrew Sean Greer,
452:A day so happy. Fog lifted early. I worked in the garden. Hummingbirds were stopping over honeysuckle flowers. There was no thing on earth I wanted to possess. I know no one worth my envying him. ~ Czeslaw Milosz,
453:And besides (I told myself) wasn’t it time to Move Forward, Let Go, turn from the garden that was locked to me? Live In The Present, Focus On The Now instead of grieving for what I could never have? ~ Donna Tartt,
454:I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. ~ G K Chesterton,
455:A black cat among roses, phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon, the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with perfume. ~ Amy Lowell,
456:Indeterminism does not confer freedom on us: I would feel that my freedom was impaired if I thought that a quantum mechanical trigger in my brain might cause me to leap into the garden and eat a slug ~ J J C Smart,
457:Inside each one of us is a beautiful flower garden. This is the garden of the soul. With each lesson we learn, the garden grows. As we learn together, our individual gardens form a tranquil paradise. ~ Sri Chinmoy,
458:There are certain kinds of flowers-have you ever noticed?-that are beautiful and fragrant as long as they grow in the garden. But if you put them in vases, even silver vases, they wilt and die" (272) ~ Jorge Amado,
459:I do not envy the owners of very large gardens. The garden should fit its owner or his or her tastes, just as one's clothes do; it should be neither too large nor too small, but just comfortable. ~ Gertrude Jekyll,
460:I fell over twice. It was loud. The garden was black outside our circle of light. The endless night stretched all around us, so we told each other that we had to be close together, together in the dark. ~ Laure Eve,
461:If the weeds are pulled out of the garden too soon, the too shallow roots of the plants developing around it get pulled up with the weed also. Time is what is needed before criticism can be useful. ~ Allison Mackie,
462:I like the posture, but not the yoga.
I like the inebriated morning, but not the opium. I like the flower but not the garden, the moment but not the dream. Quiet, my love. Be still. I am sleeping. ~ Roman Payne,
463:Kali is the forest. She is wild. Gauri is the garden. She is domestic. Kali stays outside the house. Gauri comes inside the house. That is why what is outside is scary and what is inside is not. ~ Devdutt Pattanaik,
464:[…] we will turn this place around, and a new civilization can be born that does not know boundary lines but knows better how to live in the garden and knows that we are one thought away from paradise. ~ Jon Ronson,
465:The Garden Of The Golden Valley
Stories of passion make sweet dust,
Calm water, grasses unconcerned.
At sunset, when birds cry in the wind,
Petals are falling like a girl s robe long ago.
~ Du Mu,
466:Christian discipleship is the shape of what it means to be a renewed human being and constitutes a restoration of the gift and call of being human that was given and announced in the Garden of Eden. ~ James K A Smith,
467:Lao Tzu once said, 'Nature doesn’t hurry, yet everything is accomplished.'

A single seed planted, eventually becomes a garden in time – when things get tough, tend to the garden in your mind. ~ Jennifer Sodini,
468:Any mundane activity can become meditative. Digging a hole in the garden, planting new roses in the garden - you can do it with such tremendous love and compassion, you can do it with the hands of a buddha. ~ Rajneesh,
469:If she had to choose which aspect of the suite she despised most, it would have been a hard call between the lock and the garden, though these days she nursed a particular grudge against the curtains. ~ Marie Rutkoski,
470:Do not judge God's world from your own. Trim your own hedge as you wish and plant your flowers in the patterns you can understand, but do not judge the garden of nature from your little window box. ~ Georg C Lichtenberg,
471:Such, then, was my position: to care for almost nothing but the gods and heroes, the garden of the Hesperides, Launcelot and the Grail, and to believe in nothing but atoms and evolution and military service. ~ C S Lewis,
472:The movements of some more little red birds in the garden, like animated rosebuds, appeared unbearably jittery and thievish. It was as though the creatures were attached by sensitive wires to his nerves. ~ Malcolm Lowry,
473:Do not judge God's world from your own. Trim your own hedge as you wish and plant your flowers in the patterns you can understand, but do not judge the garden of nature from your little window box. ~ Georg C Lichtenberg,
474:If you were here, I would take you into the garden module and lean over the tomato beds so that as you took me from behind, my face would be pressed into the fragrant green leaves with each thrust. ~ Mary Robinette Kowal,
475:It is, of course, a trite observation to say that we live "in a period of transition." Many people have said this at many times. Adam may well have made the remark to Eve on leaving the Garden of Eden. ~ Harold MacMillan,
476:When you commune with Me in the garden of your heart, both you and I are blessed. This is My way of living in the world—through you! Together we will push back the darkness, for I am the Light of the world. ~ Sarah Young,
477:Everything I do is because of writing. If I go for a walk, it's because I'm thinking of writing. I go look at flowers, I go look at the garden, I go look at a museum, but it's all coming back to writing. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
478:She was under her husband's headship, yet she was in many ways an even more glorious creature than he, treasured and extolled by him. They were partners and companions, fellow-laborers in the garden. ~ John F MacArthur Jr,
479:Abroad? Oh no. I went to England in ’91, and you stood in the garden at Fontenay and berated me.” He shook his head. “This is my nation. Here I stay. A man can’t carry his country on the soles of his shoes. ~ Hilary Mantel,
480:Self-esteem is the garden in which passion bears success flowers. Most people can’t stand out to stand for what supposed to belong to them just because; they feel it can’t be theirs, so it’s not theirs. ~ Israelmore Ayivor,
481:The garden of
Love
is green without
limit
and yields many
fruits
other than sorrow
and joy.
Love is beyond either
condition:
without spring,
without autumn,
it is always fresh. ~ Rumi,
482:The men of experiment are like the ant; they only collect and use. But the bee gathers its materials from the flowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. ~ Leonardo da Vinci,
483:Chance was to work in the garden, where he would care for plants and grasses and trees which grew there peacefully. He would be as one on them: quiet, open hearted in the sunshine and heavy when it rained. ~ Jerzy Kosinski,
484:God didn’t even permit the eating of meat back in the Garden of Eden—not even for the animals. Instead, He gave them every green plant for food. It wasn’t until Noah that he granted people that permission. ~ Christy Barritt,
485:Is there an intelligent man or woman now in the world who believes in the Garden of Eden story? If you find any man who believes it, strike his forehead and you will hear an echo. Something is for rent. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,
486:He smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, "Life is so beautiful."
...
Yes, he thought, if I can die saying, "Life is so beautiful," then nothing else is important. ~ Mario Puzo,
487:Lodged

"The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed.
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt. ~ Robert Frost,
488:The men of experiment are like the ant; they only collect and use. But the bee...gathers its materials from the flowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. ~ Leonardo da Vinci,
489:Things grow for me in the garden, little green promises that, in good time, are kept: I will give you tomatoes, I promise you corn. People do not always keep their promises, even when you tend their soil. ~ Theodore Sturgeon,
490:Helen ran down a flight of stairs at the back of the house and into the garden. In the darkness she stopped and stood trembling. It seemed to her that the world was full of meaningless people saying words. ~ Sherwood Anderson,
491:It takes time to find the courage to display the parts of yourself that aren't bright and shining. But you have to see them, have to know they're inside you...shadows in the garden. They are a part of all of us. ~ Anne Bishop,
492:She went to the open door and stood in it and looked out among the tomato vines and "jimpson" weeds that constituted the garden. No Tom. So she lifted up her voice at an angle calculated for distance and shouted: ~ Mark Twain,
493:The art of happiness is being content with what you have,' she would say, looking with apparent satisfaction out of the dusty windows at the garden, yellowing like an uncut hayfield in the October sunshine. ~ Philippa Gregory,
494:The garden of the Lord, brethren, includes – yes, it truly includes – includes not only the roses of martyrs but also the lilies of virgins, and the ivy of married people, and the violets of widows. ~ Saint Augustine of Hippo,
495:I classify Sao Paolo this way: The Governor's Palace is the living room. The mayor's office is the dining room and the city is the garden. And the favela is the back yard where they throw the garbage. ~ Carolina Maria de Jesus,
496:Saw you out there in the garden. Looked so damn...fine," he said, quietly. "Was like I hadta have ya, right then. Bubbled up like...I dunno, puke or somethin'." Jack chuckled. "You sure have a way with words, D. ~ Jane Seville,
497:Where have I
been while this person is leading my life
with her patience, will and order? In the garden;
on the bee and under the bee; in the
crown gathering cumulus and
flensing it from the boughs ~ Sharon Olds,
498:A black cat among roses,
phlox, lilac-misted under a quarter moon,
the sweet smells of heliotrope and night-scented stock. The garden is very still.
It is dazed with moonlight,
contented with perfume... ~ Amy Lowell,
499:Is there an intelligent man or woman now in the world who believes in the Garden of Eden story? If you find any man who believes it, strike his forehead and you will hear an echo. Something is for rent. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,
500:The old capital is solitary and deserted. No sound of man breaks the silence of its streets. Only memory broods in the garden where the Pashas used to walk, and the courtyard where the Imperial envoy fell. ~ Winston S Churchill,
501:There are fairy lights set up around the garden, shining like miniature stars among the roses and making them seem to glow translucently in the fading light. It's such a beautiful, calm space. ", FADE by Kailin Gow ~ Kailin Gow,
502:“Human beings, having originated
in the Garden, require contact
with nature. Even a palace grows
unwholesome to one who is too
long confined within its walls.”


-THE BOOK OF THE ETERNAL ROSE ~ Fiona Paul,
503:Then playwriting itself became a nettle, became several in fact; the shallowness, the wasted time, the messiness of other minds, the hopelessness of pretending—in the garden of the arts, it was a weed and had to die. ~ Anonymous,
504:Ariel Gordon is superbly, supremely, a poet of the body. She finds words for the physicality of the forest, of the garden, of pregnancy. Hump speaks the erotics of being alive and being in love with being alive. ~ Robert Kroetsch,
505:Embrace the faff. Stare out of the window. Bend paperclips. Stand in the middle of the room trying to remember what you came downstairs for. Pace. Drum your fingertips. Move papers around. Hum. Look at the garden. ~ Tom Hodgkinson,
506:Enough of acting the infant who has been told so often how he was found under a cabbage that in the end he remembers the exact spot in the garden and the kind of life he led there before joining the family circle. ~ Samuel Beckett,
507:I think New Orleans is such a beautiful city. It looks like a fairytale when you walk through the French Quarter or the Garden District. There is such a lush sense of color, style, architecture - and the people themselves. ~ Anika,
508:It's spider season. Every year, right about now, thousands of the godless eight-legged bastards emerge from the bowels of hell (or the garden, whichever's nearest) with the sole intention of tormenting humankind. ~ Charlie Brooker,
509:You are a man, not God; you are human, not an angel. How can you expect to remain always in a constant state of virtue, when this was not possible even for an angel of Heaven, nor for the first man in the Garden? ~ Thomas a Kempis,
510:Back in the shadows, in the darkest part of the garden beside the hedge, the skinny choreographer was making out with the younger member of the writer couple. I saw a hand slip inside a shirt and looked the other way. ~ Herman Koch,
511:It’s there in your own Bible, Carlotta. Two trees—knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying. ~ Orson Scott Card,
512:Fair fresh leaves, and buds—and buds—tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
513:Friends are "annuals" that need seasonal nurturing to bear blossoms. Family is a "perennial" that comes up year after year, enduring the droughts of absence and neglect. There's a place in the garden for both of them. ~ Erma Bombeck,
514:I’d like to ask you a question, if I may.”
“What?”
“All these poems you’ve written and hidden—so many poems. Why?”
While she thought, morning broke and the birds sang in the garden. “Because I could not stop. ~ Jeffrey Ford,
515:Strength may wield the ponderous spade, May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home; But elegance, chief grace the garden shows, And most attractive, is the fair result Of thought, the creature of a polished mind. ~ William Cowper,
516:They say that gardens look better when they are created by loving gardeners rather than by landscapers, because the garden is more tended to and cared for. The same thing goes for cooking. I only cook for people I love. ~ Ina Garten,
517:As we read, ponder, and pray, there will come into our minds a view of the three gardens of God—the Garden of Eden, the Garden of Gethsemane, and the Garden of the Empty Tomb where Jesus appeared to Mary Magdalene. ~ Bruce R McConkie,
518:Spirituality is not easy to define, but you can tell when it is present. It is the fragrance of the garden of the Lord, the power to change the atmosphere around you, the influence that makes Christ real to others. ~ J Oswald Sanders,
519:The first painting that I realised I liked was 'The Garden of Earthly Delights' by Hieronymus Bosch, when I was six years old, at the Prado in Madrid. I still find myself returning there every time I'm in the city. ~ Carolina Herrera,
520:111God has purchased the persons and possessions of the believers in return for the Garden—they fight in God’s way: they kill and are killed—this is a true promise given by Him in the Torah, the Gospel, and the Qur’an. Who ~ Anonymous,
521:He means to make his subjects merciful and wise; sorrow and struggle bringeth both. We will, he tells me, grow by grieving, live by dying, love by losing. The heart itself is the field of battle and the garden green. ~ Andrew Peterson,
522:I like to think we were man and wife. Life itself can be sacramental. The supposition was that we would be leaving the Garden of Eden together, and would cleave to one another in the wilderness through thick and think. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
523:In the common words we use every day, souls of past races, the thoughts and feelings of individual men stand around us, not dead, but frozen into their attitudes like the courtiers in the garden of the Sleeping Beauty. ~ Owen Barfield,
524:I was mistaken about Eve in the beginning;  It is better to live outside the Garden with her   than inside, without her….”                                                                                       —Mark Twain ~ Lola St Vil,
525:Jesus enters the garden, in preparation, intending to face his fears by facing his God, his Father, His greatest fear is to offend his Father, to disobey his own calling, its integrity, and the word of God on his life. ~ Megan McKenna,
526:Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens! ~ Lewis Carroll,
527:In them, she saw the sham of her life laid out like a book, the foolish belief that she, that anyone, could escape the consequences of this world, could flee from death. That was the deceit. The true serpent in the garden. ~ Libba Bray,
528:Our tendency is to be interested in something that is growing in the garden, not in the bare soil itself. But if you want to have a good harvest, the most important thing is to make the soil rich and cultivate it well. ~ Shunryu Suzuki,
529:Resa longed for the kitchen, always full of the humming of the oversize fridge, for mo's workshop in the garden, and the armchair in the library where you could sit and visit strange worlds without getting lost in them ~ Cornelia Funke,
530:A life was no goddamn thing in the end, he thought. Bits and pieces of make-believe cobbled together to look halfways human, like some stick-and-rag doll meant to scare crows out of the garden. No goddamn thing at all. ~ Michael Crummey,
531:Of course the Dharma-body of the Buddha was the hedge at the bottom of the garden. At the same time, and no less obviously, it was these flowers, it was anything that I - or rather the blessed Not-I - cared to look at. ~ Aldous Huxley,
532:The person who truly wants nothing except his destiny no longer has others of his own kind; he stands completely alone and has only the chill of outer space around him. You know, that’s Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. ~ Hermann Hesse,
533:The most important skill in life is to learn the acceptance of that which you have not planned for yourself. Discontent, if watered even the slightest bit, spreads like choke weed. It will smother the garden if you let it, ~ Lisa Wingate,
534:Why should dropping trees seem so different from beheading stalks of broccoli or uprooting the wild raspberries and milkweed that encroached on the garden? Did killing trees feel different merely because they were bigger? ~ Tovar Cerulli,
535:It hadn’t occurred to me that my mother would die. Until she was dying, the thought had never entered my mind. She was monolithic and insurmountable, the keeper of my life. She would grow old and still work in the garden. ~ Cheryl Strayed,
536:Of all the trees that have ever been cultivated by man, the genealogical tree is the driest. It is one, we may be sure, that had no place in the garden of Eden. Its root is in the grave; its produce mere Dead Sea fruit. ~ Amelia B Edwards,
537:She went back down to the garden, feeling like a queen, hearing the birds sing—this was in winter—seeing the sky all golden, the sun in the trees, flowers among the shrubs, bewildered, wild, giddy with inexpressible rapture. ~ Victor Hugo,
538:The business of procuring the necessities of life has been shifted from the wood lot, the garden, the kitchen and the family to the factory and the large-scale enterprise. In our case, we moved our center back to the land. ~ Helen Nearing,
539:The essence of Christianity is told us in the Garden of Eden history. The fruit that was forbidden was on the tree of knowledge. The subtext is, All the suffering you have is because you wanted to find out what was going on. ~ Frank Zappa,
540:It was Magnus who first told me the story of the Garden of Eden. I had great difficulty imagining it,” he remarked. “A garden where nothing dies or decays, where no one grows old, and the seasons never change. How miserable. ~ Tan Twan Eng,
541:So I kept talking because nothing gets me going like knowing I should shut up. Oh, I should be quiet and full of potential like all those still flowers, but I know I am a weed and I've got to blow my seeds around the garden. ~ Michelle Tea,
542:...so I took it out with me into the garden, because the dullest book takes on a certain saving grace if read out of doors, just as bread and butter, devoid of charm in the drawing-room, is ambrosia eaten under a tree. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
543:What is the explanation of the seemingly insane drive of man to be painter and poet if it is not an act of defiance against mans fall and an assertion that he return to the Garden of Eden? For the artists are the first men. ~ Barnett Newman,
544:41Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. 42So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there. ~ Anonymous,
545:His voice is muddy, that's what it is. Dark and brown and muddy. A note to it like coffee left too long on the burner. And unsweetened, bitter chocolate. But there's dirt in it too, deep, dark dirt, like the garden in October. ~ Jael McHenry,
546:It took me over a couple of months to find the right piece of transparent paper for a section near the centre, on the right side of the Garden of Nebuchadnezzar. When I did find it, it was on a bottle of my wife's toilet water. ~ Harold Town,
547:The trouble with being an activist is you end up like Eve and you get kicked out of the Garden of Eden. You know, Eve was the first person who thought for herself. And she still gets a bad rap. I named my daughter after her. ~ Susan Sarandon,
548:When wholeheartedly we help someone, when in a natural and spontaneous way we care for the tree and water the flowers in the garden even though no one required us, there is authentic generosity, genuine sympathy, true love. ~ Samael Aun Weor,
549:The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or a breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil. ~ John Steinbeck,
550:3For the LORD will †comfort Zion, He will comfort all her waste places; He will make her wilderness like Eden, And her desert †like the garden of the LORD; Joy and gladness will be found in it, Thanksgiving and the voice of melody. ~ Anonymous,
551:There was a warm breeze blowing in the car as they passed the mansions in the Garden District and they could smell the sweet aroma of the night-blooming jasmine. Soft light fell on the neutral ground along the streetcar tracks. ~ Hunter Murphy,
552:Through consciousness, our minds have the power to change our planet and ourselves. It is time we heed the wisdom of the ancient indigenous people and channel our consciousness and spirit to tend the garden and not destroy it. ~ Bruce H Lipton,
553:So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor came to the window and called me in. He ~ Bram Stoker,
554:The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or the breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil. ~ John Steinbeck,
555:For God has comforted Zion, and will take pity on all her waste places; Turning her wilderness into an Eden, her desert into the garden of God. Joy and gladness will be found in her, and thanksgiving, and the sounds of singing.”12 ~ Gerald G May,
556:You would get longer livelier and more frequent letters from me, if it weren't for the Christian religion. How that bell tolling at the end of the garden, dum dum, dum dum, annoys me! Why is Christianity so insistent and so sad? ~ Virginia Woolf,
557:The devil stole into the Garden of Eden.

He carried with him the disease— amor deliria nervosa —

in the form of a seed. It grew and flowered into a

magnificent apple tree, which bore apples as bright as blood. ~ Lauren Oliver,
558:He was already an accomplished sorcerer, insofar as we can gather, and he began having visions of the Garden. He felt it calling to him, promising him the power of a god.” “Is that before or after he started killing kids?” I said. ~ Craig Schaefer,
559:Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees, So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away! ~ Rudyard Kipling,
560:She said: I wondered at a love
that struts its glory
through the garden's
flowers as they blossom.
I said: don't wonder
at what you see.
You see yourself
in the mirror of a man.

~ Ibn Arabi, In The Mirror Of A Man
,
561:I want to do something absolutely different, or perhaps nothing at all: just stay where I am, in my home, and absorb each hour, each day, and be alone; and read and think; and walk about the garden in the night; and wait, wait... ~ Rosamond Lehmann,
562:Later in the garden she was happy; she did not want anything to happen, but only for the situation to remain in suspension as the two men tossed her from one mind to another; she had not existed for a long time, even as a ball. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
563:Now the blues is, was, and always has been the bitch’s brew of the tormented soul. The fifth gospel of grits and groan, it starts with the first moan when Adam and Eve did the nasty thing and got eighty-sixed from the Garden of Eden. ~ Steven Tyler,
564:The Church still prizes the Moral Sense as man's noblest asset today, although the Church knows God had a distinctly poor opinion of it and did what he could in his clumsy way to keep his happy Children of the Garden from acquiring it. ~ Mark Twain,
565:Who runs a combination cat shelter and hostel?" Keith asked. "With the cat shelter being the primary function? Only people who want to kill you with an axe and then put you in the garden and build a shed on you, that's who. ~ Maureen Johnson,
566:it goes back to the garden telling a story. You make up bits and play with them to see if they ring true. Sometimes this works out first time and all is well and good, but as often as not you have to fiddle and reshape until it is right. ~ Monty Don,
567:Our garden was debated territory between five local cats, and we'd heard that the best way to keep other cats out of the garden was to have one yourself. A moment's rational thought here will spot the slight flaw in this reasoning. ~ Terry Pratchett,
568:There are no signposts in the desert,
caravans are guided by the stars.
In the darkness of despair,
hope is the only light.
But in the garden of your life,
my dear, never hope that
a weeping willow will give you dates. ~ Rumi,
569:Until the eighteenth century, people believed that biblical paradise, the Garden of Eden, was a real place. It appeared on maps--located, ironically, at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers, in what is now modern-day Iraq. ~ Eric Weiner,
570:When I go into the garden with a spade and dig a bed I feel such an exhilaration and health that I discover that I have been defrauding myself all this time in letting others do for me what I should have done with my own hands. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
571:Each bud flowers but once and each flower has but its minute of perfect beauty; so, in the garden of the soul each feeling has, as it were, its flowering instant, its one and only moment of expansive grace and radiant kingship. ~ Henri Frederic Amiel,
572:If you believe in the existence of fairies at the bottom of the garden you are deemed fit for the bin. If you believe in parthenogenesis, ascension, transubstantiation and all the rest of it you are deemed fit to govern the country. ~ Jonathan Meades,
573:will plant!” True to his word, on Friday, when she arrived, there were dozens of plants waiting by the garden plot that they had cleared earlier in the week. She stopped and stared at it, wondering at the quantity as well as where he had ~ Sarah Price,
574:Jenks made a face as he levered himself up on the sill. “Much as I enjoy this horrific outpouring of estrogen, I’m going to go say good-bye to my wife. Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be in the garden—probably next to the stink weed. ~ Kim Harrison,
575:The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts do the same in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in the path or a breath caught at sight of a pretty girl or a fingernail nicked in the garden soil. Naturally ~ John Steinbeck,
576:Imagine that half the world is hidden from you. Half of the person sitting across from you has never been appreciated, half of the garden has never been seen or smelled, half of your own life has never been truly witnessed and appraised. ~ Arthur Zajonc,
577:On Saturday afternoons when all the things are done in the house and there's no real work to be done, I play Bach and Chopin and turn it up real loudly and get a good bottle of chardonnay and sit out on my deck and look out at the garden. ~ Maya Angelou,
578:Papa," Alessandro said, his eyes closing. "She swims nude in the sea. She carries a pistol. And she wears perfume that makes me dizzy. Sometimes I go to the garden gate and smell the handle, because, when she touches it, the perfume stays. ~ Mark Helprin,
579:If a pig goes upon the threshing-floor, or a field, or a garden, and the owner of the meadow, or the field, or the garden smites it so that it die, he shall give it back to its owner; but if he does not give it back, he becomes a thief. ~ Orson Scott Card,
580:"If for instance one doesn't happen to recall, when considering whether to paint the garden gate green or white, that green is the colour of life and hope, the symbolic aspect of 'green' is nevertheless present as an unconscious sous-entendu." ~ Carl Jung,
581:Most criminals are stupid. They creep $500,000 homes in the Garden District, load up two dozen bottles of gin, whiskey, vermouth, and Collins mix in a $2,000 Irish linen tablecloth and later drink the booze and throw the tablecloth away. ~ James Lee Burke,
582:Everything in the garden was like that: lovely but impossible to enjoy properly, with that worrying feeling inside that they were only there through an odd stroke of luck, and the fear that they'd soon have to give an account of themselves. ~ Italo Calvino,
583:I must say as to what I have seen of Texas it is the garden spot of the world. The best land and the best prospects for health I ever saw, and I do believe it is a fortune to any man to come here. There is a world of country here to settle. ~ Davy Crockett,
584:The Baroness found it amusing to go to tea; she dressed as if for dinner. The tea-table offered an anomalous and picturesque repast; and on leaving it they all sat and talked in the large piazza, or wandered about the garden in the starlight. ~ Henry James,
585:The direction of a big act will warp history, but probably all acts will do the same thing in their degree, down to a stone stepped over in a path or a breath caught at the sight of a pretty girl or a finger nail nicked in the garden soil. ~ John Steinbeck,
586:You are the drop,and the ocean you are kindness,you are anger, you are sweetness,you are poison. Do not make me more disheartened. you are the chamber of the sun, you are the abode of venus, you are the garden of all hope. Oh, Beloved, let me enter. ~ Rumi,
587:He was convinced that he could steal a human’s life force, drain their soul dry, and use that power to turn himself into the Garden’s conduit and master. It was very trial and error, though. Several hundred victims worth of trial and error. ~ Craig Schaefer,
588:ISA51.3 For the LORD shall comfort Zion: he will comfort all her waste places; and he will make her wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the LORD; joy and gladness shall be found therein, thanksgiving, and the voice of melody. ~ Anonymous,
589:Just as a gardener must tend his or her plot, keeping out the weeds, you must tend the garden of your mind, weeding out the thoughts of lack, limitation, and negativity. You must nurture and tend the thoughts of happiness, success, and purpose. ~ Randy Gage,
590:The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. ~ Oscar Wilde,
591:In the garden, Autumn is, indeed the crowning glory of the year, bringing us the fruition of months of thought and care and toil. And at no season, safe perhaps in Daffodil time, do we get such superb colour effects as from August to November. ~ George Eliot,
592:It was a cold hard easterly morning when he latched the garden gate and turned away. The light snowfall which had feathered his schoolroom windows on the Thursday, still lingered in the air, and was falling white, while the wind blew black. ~ Charles Dickens,
593:The Mind, that Ocean where each kind Does streight its own resemblance find; Yet it creates, transcending these, Far other Worlds, and other Seas; Annihilating all that’s made To a green Thought in a green Shade. Andrew Marvell
The Garden ~ George Monbiot,
594:If yon wish to be like the gods on earth, to be free in the realms of the dead, pluck not the fruit from the garden! In appearance it may glisten to the eye; but the perishable pleasure of possession quickly avenges the curse of curiosity. ~ Friedrich Schiller,
595:The biblical scene with the serpent taking place in the Garden of Eden is another probable forgery in Scripture committed by the Jews to overwrite a significant historical event yet according to their own imaginary narrative of ancient Egypt. ~ Ibrahim Ibrahim,
596:There are some people who never psychologically leave the Garden of Eden. They have never had to encounter the "law" that contradicts their original ego-Self identity and the inflation that goes along with it. Psychologically, they are unborn. ~ Edward Edinger,
597:Zen opens a man's eyes to the greatest mystery as it is daily and hourly performed; it enlarges the heart to embrace eternity of time and infinity of space in its every palpitation; it makes us live in the world as if walking in the garden of Eden ~ D T Suzuki,
598:Her thoughts rambled, but she wasn’t daydreaming. Her senses were sharp. She caught the fall of every leaf in the garden, the rustle of every branch. And so she was astonished when a man stepped out of the darkness and grabbed her from behind. ~ Kristin Cashore,
599:A Sun-Blocker Rotation Trellised tomatoes, beans, peas, and cucumbers, along with corn, can grow 8 to 10 feet tall. To avoid these taller plantings casting shade on other crops, keep these in one rotation on the northeastern side of the garden. ~ Carleen Madigan,
600:Biology is a force to be reckoned with. An ugly child you love with all your heart and soul, you. But it's different. You're pleased with your third-floor walk-up, also, until someone invites you I've to dinner at a house with a pool in the garden. ~ Herman Koch,
601:Marius had finally entered Cosette’s garden as Romeo entered the garden of Juliet. This had even proved easier for him than for Romeo; Romeo was obliged to scale a wall, Marius had only to use a little force on one of the bars of the decrepit gate. ~ Victor Hugo,
602:O lower self, which is better, the Garden of eternity or a glimpse of this world's unlawful bounty and its wretched, fleeting rubbish? ...You must therefore pay close attention, you miserable wretch, and beware of being among the deprived. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,
603:...to go into the garden in its snowed-up state is like going into a bath of purity. The first breath on opening the door is so ineffably pure that it makes me gasp, and I feel a black and sinful object in the midst of all the spotlessness. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
604:Then he kissed her, not just a brush of lips as she'd done, but a kiss a kiss that scalded her tongue. The tree burst into full blooms. The garden fluttered around her. A riot of flowers shot out of the earth. She was mud-covered as he pulled back. ~ Melissa Marr,
605:At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone.
"Not one for goodbyes, is he?" he muttered.
"He doesn't say goodbye," Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. "He just lets go. ~ Leigh Bardugo,
606:In the midst of the happiness they brought there was always a lurking shadow. The shadow of incompatibility; of the impossibility of being at once bound and free. The garden breeds a longing for the wild; the wild a homesickness for the garden. ~ Dorothy Richardson,
607:My drafting table, where I drew The Far Side for most of my career, faced a window that overlooked a beautiful garden; beyond the garden was a lake, and beyond the lake Mount Rainier rose majestically into the Washington sky.

I worked at night. ~ Gary Larson,
608:There seems to be something miraculous about seeing the relentless optimism of new growth after the bleakness of winter, a kind of joy in the difference every year, the way nature chooses to show off different parts of the garden to its full advantage. ~ Jojo Moyes,
609:The older books were quite light-hearted. But I think most of my novels do end on a deep note of pessimism. Shadows seem to be closing in. The final conclusion isn't that life is wonderful and everything is bright and cheery and in the garden. ~ Ruth Prawer Jhabvala,
610:The real troubles with living is that living is so banal. Everyone, after all, goes the same dark road—and the road has a trick of being the most dark, most treacherous, when it seems most bright—and it’s true that nobody stays in the garden of Eden. ~ James Baldwin,
611:I am sitting with a philosopher in the garden; he says again and again 'I know that that’s a tree', pointing to a tree that is near us. Someone else arrives and hears this, and I tell him: 'This fellow isn’t insane. We are only doing philosophy. ~ Ludwig Wittgenstein,
612:The “name it and claim it”gospel makes God into our servant and denies his boundaries and choices. God often says no for reasons we may not understand; his refusal to grant our wish doesn’t mean that we do not have enough faith. Ask Jesus in the Garden. ~ Henry Cloud,
613:The rest of dinner was an ordeal. When Adam looked at Signora Docci, he saw Professor Leonard; when he looked at Antonella, he saw himself kissing her in the garden; and when he looked at Harry, he found himself wondering if one of them had been adopted. ~ Mark Mills,
614:Whatever the Garden had once been, now it was seething with corruption. Abundant life. It makes me laugh, in retrospect. Mr. Faust, did you know that there’s a medical term for abundant life? For cellular life bursting out of control and running wild. ~ Craig Schaefer,
615:It is a strange thing that many truly spiritual men, such as General Gordon, have actually spent some hours in speculating upon the precise location of the Garden of Eden. Most probably we are in Eden still. It is only our eyes that have changed. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
616:One thing in particular that struck him was the total absence of landscapes, the mark of a mature aesthetic sensibility: hanging landscape paintings in a house situated in the Garden of Eden would be as pointless as pouring a bucket of water into the ocean. ~ Liu Cixin,
617:She was gentle and sedate as usual, but evidently absent and preoccupied. Her eyes rested on the dew lying on the grass in the garden, and her ears were intent upon the melancholy singing of the autumn insects. It was as if we were in a real romance. ~ Murasaki Shikibu,
618:The moment man begins to take thought of the morrow he passes out of the Garden of Eden into the vale of anxiety; the pale cast of worry settles down upon him, greed is sharpened, property begins, and the good cheer of the “thoughtless” native disappears. ~ Will Durant,
619:My master wishes to see you," said the mounted man.
"When the planting's done," I said.
"Lord Barton is unaccustomed to waiting."
"Then he should rejoice, for he'll learn something new today." I went back to the garden. Soon the servant left. ~ Orson Scott Card,
620:One day is enough for a man to know all happiness. My dear ones, why do we quarrel, try to outshine each other and keep grudges against each other? Let's go straight into the garden, walk and play there, love, appreciate each other and glorify life. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
621:I'm intrigued. If not by beauty, how then does one spot the garden-variety nobleman?"
"Easily," she said. "One need only look for the promise of beauty not quite fulfilled, a nose too large, eyes a bit too closer together, or ears ready to set sail. ~ Kristen Callihan,
622:A family is a place where minds come in contact with one another. If these minds love one another the home will be as beautiful as a flower garden. But if these minds get out of harmony with one another it is like a storm that plays havoc with the garden. ~ Gautama Buddha,
623:An air car was just landing in the garden by the pool and beings under it were complaining of injuries and indignities done them. Perhaps this was the trouble he could feel? Grasses were for walking on, flowers and bushes were not—this was a wrongness. ~ Robert A Heinlein,
624:Christianity teaches that sin is so destructive it shatters souls and destroys worlds. It’s like a cancer that slowly consumes everything. That’s why this world went from perfection in the garden of Eden to being the sick and depressing place it is today. ~ Nabeel Qureshi,
625:I don't think Romney is wacky at all, but religion makes intelligent people say and do wacky things, believe and affirm crazy things. Left on his own, Romney would never have said something like the Garden Of Eden was in Missouri, and will be again. ~ Christopher Hitchens,
626:I Feel Sorry for the Garden No one is thinking about the flowers No one is thinking about the fish No one wants to believe that the garden is dying that the garden’s heart has swollen under the sun that the garden is slowly forgetting its green moments … ~ Vladimir Bartol,
627:Soon it began to drizzle for the second time that night. The drops grew heavier and became visible in the headlights of the cars. It was said by some of the police on the scene that God was crying for the girl in the garden. To others, it was only rain. ~ George Pelecanos,
628:The garden was at its best that first week in the month of June. The peonies were more opulent than usual and I walked slowly through the green light on the terrace above the white river, enjoying the heavy odor of peonies and of new roses rambling in hedges. ~ Gore Vidal,
629:I kept asking myself how a book could be infinite. I could not imagine any other than a cyclic volume, circular. A volume whose last page would be the same as the first and so have the possibility of continuing indefinitely.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
630:It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It’s like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting ‘Cathy’ and banging your head against a tree. ~ Helen Fielding,
631:The tree I had in the garden as a child, my beech tree, I used to climb up there and spend hours. I took my homework up there, my books, I went up there if I was sad, and it just felt very good to be up there among the green leaves and the birds and the sky. ~ Jane Goodall,
632:It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It's like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting "Cathy" and banging your head against a tree. ~ Helen Fielding,
633:It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It’s like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting “Cathy” and banging your head against a tree. ~ Helen Fielding,
634:long. Now, do your new verse. Read Ephesians 3:7 out loud ten times, looking at each word as if photographing it with your eyes. Be sure to include the verse number. Then cover the page and recite it ten times. You’re done for the day. Weeding the Garden As ~ Andrew M Davis,
635:She looked up through a haze of pain. At the edge of the garden, a dark figure approached—the silhouette of a man whose eyes shone like miniature headlamps, blinding Reyna. She heard the scrape of iron against leather as he drew another arrow from his quiver. ~ Rick Riordan,
636:If the garden of Eden really exists it does so moment by moment, fragmented and tough, cropping up like a fan of buddleia high up in the gutter of a deserted warehouse, or in a heap of frozen cabbages becoming luminous in the reflected light of roadside snow. ~ Helen Dunmore,
637:The fact that the prohibited tree was placed in the center of the garden, right next to the Tree of Life (Gen. 2:9), symbolizes that the life that God intends for us revolves around our honoring God’s prohibition as much as trusting God for his provision.The ~ Gregory A Boyd,
638:I come to the garden alone While the dew is still on the roses And the voice I hear, falling on my ear The son … of God … disclo-o-ses And he walks with me and he talks with me Tells me I am his own And the joy we share as we tarry there None other … has ever … ~ Stephen King,
639:I recycle. I have a house in the south of France and I have a small garden. My name is Dujardin - 'from the garden.' I grow carrots, peppers, strawberries, green beans, and things for salads, but there are lots of wild boars all around and they steal the food. ~ Jean Dujardin,
640:It gets to seem as if way back in the Garden of Eden after the Fall, Adam and Eve had begged the Lord to forgive them and He, in his boundless exasperation had said, "All right, then. Stay. Stay in the Garden. Get civilized. Procreate. Muck it up." And they did. ~ Diane Arbus,
641:When you reach the little house, the place your journey started, you will recognize it, although it will seem much smaller than you remember. Walk up the path, and through the garden gate you never saw before but once. And then go home. Or make a home. And rest. ~ Neil Gaiman,
642:It gets to seem as if way back in the Garden of Eden after the fall, Adam and Eve had begged the Lord to forgive them and He, in his boundless exasperation, had said, "All right, then. Stay. Stay in the Garden. Get civilized. Procreate. Muck it up." And they did. ~ Diane Arbus,
643:From somewhere in the garden came a burble of childish laughter. He [Ruso] reached forward, put his arms around her [Tilla’s] waist and rested his head against the belly that was not holding his baby, and perhaps never would. “Everyone else,” he said. “Why not us? ~ Ruth Downie,
644:Loving behavior contributes to the group at the expense of the individual. Competition contributes to the survival of the individual at the expense of the group. In the garden of life, some people are more like flowers, and other people are more like weeds. ~ Marilyn vos Savant,
645:One should make movies innocently - the way Adam and Eve named the animals, their first day in the garden. Learn from your own interior vision of things, as if there had never been a D.W.Griffith, or a Eisenstein, or a [John] Ford, or a [Jean] Renoir, or anybody. ~ Orson Welles,
646:When the panting and thirsting soul first drinks the delicious waters of truth, when the moral and intellectual tastes and desires first seize the fragrant fruits that flourish in the garden of knowledge, then does the child catch a glimpse and foretaste of heaven. ~ Horace Mann,
647:So the human heart was created in the context of the perfection of the garden of Eden. But we don't live there now. This is why our instincts keep firing off the lie that perfection is possible. We have pictures of perfection etched into the very DNA of our souls. ~ Lysa TerKeurst,
648:You are the drop,and the ocean
you are kindness,you are anger,
you are sweetness,you are poison.
Do not make me more disheartened.

you are the chamber of the sun,
you are the abode of venus,
you are the garden of all hope.
Oh, Beloved, let me enter. ~ Rumi,
649:And so we stayed out in the garden of the old house until we couldn't kick a ball, laughing in the gathering twilight, making the most of the good weather and all the days that were left, our little game watched only by next door's cat, and every star in the heavens. ~ Tony Parsons,
650:Cultivate peace first in the garden of your heart by removing the weeds of lust, hatred, greed, selfishness, and jealousy. Then only you can manifest it externally. Then only, those who come in contact with you, will be benefited by your vibrations of peace and harmony. ~ Sivananda,
651:Whenever you see confusion, you can be sure that something is wrong. Disorder in the world implies that something is out of place. Usually, at the heart of all disorder you will find man in rebellion against God. It began in the Garden of Eden and continues to this day. ~ A W Tozer,
652:Do not collect passion into the equation. It is a dangerous foe, Theodora, like keeping a lion in the garden. It might seem safe enough, but it might well destroy you. No, do not yearn for passion. Ask instead for contentment, happiness. Those are to be wished for. ~ Deanna Raybourn,
653:But in the Garden, we make our own heroes. The kids in the projects love Aunt Pooh because she gives them money. They don't care how she gets it. My dad talked about foul shit, yeah, but it's shit that happens around here. That makes him a hero. Maybe I can be one, too. ~ Angie Thomas,
654:The waking dreams of life as most people know them are spiritual experiences, but there is another order of spiritual experience and that's to be in the garden of the heart, in the perfect stillness, where the white light of eternity meets the white light of eternity. ~ Frederick Lenz,
655:But that was before the curse, before the shadow fell across the garden of Adam, before the shadow fell across the heart of Adam. And ever since the curse, we’ve been different. Beastly. Ugly. Defiant. Angry. We do things we know we shouldn’t do and wonder why we did them. ~ Max Lucado,
656:I associate the garden with the whole experience of being alive, and so, there is nothing in the range of human experience that is separate from what the garden can signify in its eagerness and its insistence, and in its driving energy to live -- to grow, to bear fruit. ~ Stanley Kunitz,
657:I have been much afflicted again lately by visitors . . . and they gave me to understand that if they had had the arranging of the garden it would have been finished long ago - whereas I don't believe a garden is ever finished. They have all gone now, thank heaven. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
658:In the garden everything was wonderfully clear and still. The birds were chirping so energetically that Sophie could hardly keep from laughing. The morning dew twinkled in the grass like drops of crystal. Once again she was struck by the incredible wonder of the world. ~ Jostein Gaarder,
659:kingdom of heaven is like  a a grain of mustard seed that a man took and sowed in his field. 32It is the smallest of all seeds, but when it has grown it is larger than all the garden plants and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and make nests in its branches. ~ Anonymous,
660:Little notes, scrawled on half-sheets of paper, and letters, when he was away, page after page, intimate, their news. Her voice, echoing through the house, and down the garden, careless and familiar like the writing in the book.
And I had to call him Maxim. ~ Daphne du Maurier,
661:So she had to climb the wall, kill a straw man, and return within five minutes. Shera could do it in her sleep. She had proved that, once, when she had fallen asleep in the Garden and woken up at the top of a sixth-century bell tower. Sleepwalking was a terrible curse. Meia ~ Will Wight,
662:The room was dark and velvety from the royal blue wallpaper with its gold pattern, but even here the echo of the flaming day shimmered brassily on the picture frames, on doorknobs and glided borders, although it came through the filter of the dense greenery of the garden. ~ Bruno Schulz,
663:A seven-armed golden lampstand is perpetually aflame with holy oil to light the tent. It is shaped like a blossoming almond tree, a symbol of the tree of life in the Garden of Eden so long ago. But it is also considered the ‘light of the world’ that gives light to all men. ~ Brian Godawa,
664:The roses bloomed, thousands of them in a floral amphitheater, blossoms shading from gold and coral at the top of the garden to scarlet and deep pink on tiers below. At the bottom, in the center of the rosy congregation, the palest apricots and ivories perfumed the air. ~ Allegra Goodman,
665:The language of salesmanship was no doubt born with the first fashions in fig leaves in the garden of Eden. A strange concept has grown around it: if something is to be sold, inaccuracy is not immoral. Hence the art of advertisement - untruthfulness combined with repetition. ~ Freya Stark,
666:Ever since Genesis decreed ‘thorns and thistles’ as a long-term punishment for our misbehaviour in the Garden of Eden, weeds have seemed to transcend value judgements, to be ubiquitous and self-evident, as if, like bacteria, they were a biological, not a cultural, category. ~ Richard Mabey,
667:For a moment the garden, the noise, the stentch of blood and demon, vanished away, and he was alone in a soundless place with only Tessa. He wanted to run to her, wrap her in his arms. Protect her.

But it was Jem's place to do those things, not his. Not his. ~ Cassandra Clare,
668:If 'why' was the first and last question, then because I was curious to see what would happen was the first and last answer. A version of it had been spoken to God Himself in the Garden of Eden, and it was destined to be the reason for the end of things at the hands of man. ~ John Connolly,
669:John Bunyan, while he had a surpassing genius, would not condescend to cull his language from the garden of flowers; but he went into the hayfield and the meadow, and plucked up his language by the roots, and spoke out in the words that the people used in their cottages. ~ Charles Spurgeon,
670:Might as well take the bull by the horns. Tomorrow it is."
Lydia watched Lord Aldershot wend his way out of the garden, taking the west gate to the stables. She wasn't too sure that she liked that analogy. A bull? Was she the bull or its horns? Neither sounded flattering. ~ Cindy Anstey,
671:The bar is in full swing and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside until the air is alive with chatter and laughter and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other's names. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
672:In a pluralistic culture . . . every individual must create a private mythological system. I must discover within myself the Garden of Eden from which I am exiled and the New Jeruselem toward which I am journeying. And must bear the burden of being my own redeemer, my own Christ. ~ Sam Keen,
673:Maria was not permitted to walk in the garden; but sometimes, from her window, she turned her eyes from the gloomy walls, in which she pined life away, on the poor wretches who strayed along the walks, and contemplated the most terrific of ruins — that of a human soul. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft,
674:The object in America is to avoid contact, to treat all as foes unless they're known to be friends. Here you have a million crabs living in a million crevices. ... But the garden's greatest benefit, I feel, as not relief to the eyes, but to make the eyes sees our neighbors. ~ Paul Fleischman,
675:Ts'ui Pe must have said once: I am withdrawing to write a book. And another time: I am withdrawing to construct a labyrinth. Every one imagined two works; to no one did it occur that the book and the maze were one and the same thing." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths, #index,
676:her parents had few friends, avoided social engagement, were awkward when they couldn’t avoid it, and spent most of their time reading, playing music, doing punishing exercise, or, like crazy Zen monks, sitting for hours in the garden or on the terrace doing absolutely nothing. ~ Mark Helprin,
677:The bar is in full swing, and floating rounds of cocktails permeate the garden outside, until the air is alivewith chatter and laughter, and casual innuendo and introductions forgotten on the spot, and enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other’s names. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
678:God believes in you , even if you don't believe in Him.He'll keep calling to you the way He's been calling to all of us since the beginning of time. Since Adam and Eve hid from Him in the garden... Without Him , nothing makes sense. Nothing at all"
"Beyond Tuesday morning ~ Karen Kingsbury,
679:I was floating around in the Garden of Eden, thrilled to be a human being at the Human-Be-In, knowing the world could be saved if we loved one another. I was draped in flowers, bestowed upon me by my brothers and sisters. I was laughing, loving, breathing Princess of Peace. ~ Pamela Des Barres,
680:The dogs bark at night. The garden smells of honeysuckle in the summer, of wet leaves in the winter. One hears the whistle of the small train from and to Paris. It is a train which looks ancient, as if it were still carrying the personages of Proust’s novels to dine in the country. ~ Ana s Nin,
681:Take a walk through the garden of forgiveness and pick a flower of forgiveness for everything you have ever done. When you get to that time that is now, make a full and total forgiveness of your entire life and smile at the bouquet in your hands because it truly is beautiful. ~ Stephen Richards,
682:The river and the garden have been the foundations of my economy here. Of the two I have liked the river best. It is wonderful to have the duty of being on the river the first and last thing every day. I have loved it even in the rain. Sometimes I have loved it most in the rain. ~ Wendell Berry,
683:It is soon to be spring
The Christmas toys barely played with
I have a glass soldier whose head can turn
The epaulettes interchangeable
Soon flowers will bloom
Lawrence from the garden shed will give us
each a cup of seeds

I am to wait
I said ~ George Saunders,
684:I was floating around in the Garden of Eden, thrilled to be a human being at the Human-Be-In, knowing the world could be saved if we loved one another. I was draped in flowers, bestowed upon me by my brothers and sisters. I was laughing, loving, breathing Princess of Peace... ~ Pamela Des Barres,
685:The alcoholic trance is not just a haze, as though the eyes were also unshaven. It is not a mere buzzing in the ears, a dizzinessor disturbance of balance. One arrives in the garden again, at nursery time, when the gentle animals are fed and in all the world there are only toys. ~ William H Gass,
686:There are many gods . . . gods of beauty and magic, gods of the garden, gods in our own backyards, but we go off to foreign countries to find new ones, we reach to the stars to find new ones--. . . . The god of the church is a jealous god; he cannot live in peace with other gods. ~ Rudolfo Anaya,
687:All men, reaching back to Adam in the Garden, plead Ignorance as their defence; when, if we were but honest, we would admit that the apple was hedged with every warning imaginable. So I too fell; perhaps all sins are not causes but effects, being the result of that first sin, Boredom. ~ K W Jeter,
688:Gardening is really an extended form of reading, of history and philosophy. The garden itself has become like writing a book. I walk around and walk around. Apparently people often see me standing there and they wave to me and I don't see them because I am reading the landscape. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
689:We are in a position of financial and social power, and we could be agents of change in our society. Without pretension, I believe we could be a nice little gardener who takes care of the garden, and hopefully our neighbor will do the same. Then, maybe we'll achieve a better world. ~ Guy Laliberte,
690:Adam searched out old friends from the neighborhood. They drank beer together in the garden of the Stag & Hounds, trading stories and trying their best to ignore the inescapable truth - that the ties that once bound them were loosening by the year and might soon be gone altogether. ~ Mark Mills,
691:He guided her back against a hedge, and kissed her breathless. The wind sang through the garden, tangling in her dress and his cloak, whipping around them both as his hands, more smoke than skin, wrapped around her waist and her hands, flesh and bone, wrapped around his back and–– ~ Victoria Schwab,
692:The consequences of Adam and Eve’s sin went far beyond their own banishment from the garden and the presence of God. God had appointed Adam as the federal head or legal representative of the entire human race. Consequently his fall brought guilt and depravity on all his descendants. ~ Jerry Bridges,
693:The trouble is, you cannot grow just one zucchini. Minutes after you plant a single seed, hundreds of zucchini will barge out of the ground and sprawl around the garden, menacing the other vegetables. At night, you will be able to hear the ground quake as more and more zucchinis erupt. ~ Dave Barry,
694:Thursday 1st January 00:15
TO: chris@christophercheshire.com
Fireworks from the London Eye are bursting above my head filling the garden with reds, yellows and blues, but I am on my own. I don’t know where Daniel is. He promised he would be home by eleven.
Happy New Year x ~ Robert Bryndza,
695:Do not go to the garden of flowers!
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.

Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,
and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.

~ Kabir, Do Not Go To The Garden Of Flowers
,
696:In other words, for the man and woman to eat from this tree was to reject God as the One who determines good and evil and to assume this responsibility themselves. The temptation in the Garden was to rebel against God’s authority and in the process make humans the arbiters of morality. ~ David Platt,
697:My grandfather lived across the garden from us, and in his attic he had a lot of radios, appliances and inventions that he had made over 50 years, such as a keyboard called a clavioline, which can be heard on some Beatles songs - it was popular in the 60s. So we had all that at home. ~ Michel Gondry,
698:Each generation of rabbis is necessarily less perfect than the rabbis that came before, since each generation is more removed from the perfection of the Garden. Therefore, no rabbi is allowed to overturn any of his forebears' wisdom, since they are all, by definition, smarter than him. ~ Cory Doctorow,
699:In the Garden of Eden, Eve wore a fig leaf, not to cover her moist parts, but to draw Adam’s gaze to what lay hidden in the undergrowth. Extending the metaphor, the snake symbolizes Adam’s tongue, the apple the rosy, blood-engorged bundle of nerve endings pulsing within Eve’s clitoris. ~ Chloe Thurlow,
700:I think the work in front of us is the first work task given our forbearers, which is to care for the garden. Now because it's the first thing commanded, maybe it's the first thing forgotten. But it is the first admonition and it is absolutely unequivocal. It is part of right livelihood. ~ Wes Jackson,
701:If you look at the literature of the 19th century, you get things like Kafka and Dostoevsky, who basically write about feeling bored and alienated. That's because we lost contact with the important things in life like work that you enjoy, or the garden, nature, your family and friends. ~ Tom Hodgkinson,
702:Christ managed to boil down an awful lot of commandments to a few very simple rules for living. It's when you go backwards through the 'begats' and the Garden of Eden, and you start thinking, 'Hang on, that's a big punishment for eating one lousy apple... There's a human-rights issue.' ~ Terry Pratchett,
703:She'd had a glimpse of a possible future-the pretty cottage, the garden full of flowers and vegetables, bread in the oven, a bowl of strawberries on the table, the happy baby hitched on her hip while she threw corn to the chickens. It would be like a Hardy novel before it all goes wrong. ~ Kate Atkinson,
704:That's the key - to maintain the garden of liberty, right? This is a generational thing that we must all do continuously. We only have the rights that we protect. It doesn't matter what we say or think we have. It's not enough to believe in something; it matters what we actually defend. ~ Edward Snowden,
705:This web of time - the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries - embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not.~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
706:You know that apple Adam ate in the Garden of Eden, referred to in the Bible?’ he asked. ‘You know what was in that apple? Logic. Logic and intellectual stuff. That was all that was in it. So—this is my point—what you have to do is vomit it up if you want to see things as they really are. ~ J D Salinger,
707:All the Scarabae—all but one—were crowded in the garden. They watched her. Their grim
old faces gave away nothing. Like elderly kiddies at a play they did not understand yet knew to be
important, they regarded her as she stood behind the gate.
Goodbye, she thought. Goodbye for ever. ~ Tanith Lee,
708:Architect Robert Alexander, who was the business partner of celebrated California architect Richard Neutra, decided to protest the proposed destruction of the garden. He chained himself to a rock near the Well of the Scribes and said he would stay there until the paving plan was abandoned. ~ Susan Orlean,
709:Life is short - while we speak it flies; enjoy, then, the present, and forget the future; such is the moral of ancient poetry, a graceful and a wise moral - indulged beneath a southern sky, and all deserving, the phrase applied to it - the philosophy of the garden. ~ Edward Bulwer Lytton 1st Baron Lytton,
710:Many ask me whether pranayama ... postpones old age. Why worry about it? Death is certain. Let it come when it comes. Just keep working. The soul has no age. It doesn't die. Only the body decays. And yet, we must never forget the body, since it is the garden we must cherish and cultivate. ~ B K S Iyengar,
711:Falco was vibrant, exciting, and unusual. The passionate way that he had touched her had made her whole body come alive for the first time.
But he wasn’t the man who loved her just as she was. He wasn’t the man who made her want to be a better person.
That man awaited her in the garden. ~ Fiona Paul,
712:Marlinspike goes down to the kitchen, to grow stout and live out his beastly nature. There is a summer ahead, though he cannot imagine its pleasures; sometimes when he’s walking in the garden he sees him, a half-grown cat, lolling watchful in an apple tree, or snoring on a wall in the sun. ~ Hilary Mantel,
713:She wandered out for a walk. It was the kind of day that pretends spring has come, even though it hasn't. The air smelled sweet, and the sun was shining. A blackthorn tree in the garden had already bloomed and was scattering seeds everywhere, like a child feeding birds in a dizzying circle. ~ Eloisa James,
714:The luminescent flow of a sunbathed garden— illuminating the shifting colors of its inhabitants— echoed in my memory as I opened the antique bookstore door in the shaft of window light.

The books, like the flowers of the garden, awaited me with the thrill of a new mystery. ~ Gina Marinello Sweeney,
715:I'm in a castle
standing in a tower,
looking down through a window
at the beautiful garden,
the sun setting in the distance.

The beauty in the moment
brings tears to my eyes.

Sky blue pink,
the backdrop for
roses in ever color
blooming in the garden. ~ Lisa Schroeder,
716:I wouldn't want to live life in an untroubled garden, blissful and ignorant. I would want to get out into the world, and be a part of something. In a way I was born into the Garden of Eden, or as close as you can get in our world; I was born white, male, and in Palo Alto. I had it pretty kush. ~ James Franco,
717:MacMurrough shifted his gaze from the thick spittle-wet mouth and stared instead through the garden windows. What a dreary drunk he was. He recalled the Spartan custom of inebriating slaves that young men should see how contemptible was drunkenness. Nowadays we leave it to our leshishlashors. ~ Jamie O Neill,
718:She still stood in front of the garden tub, the piece of glass in her hand, and she stared back at me like an animal cornered.

In that moment she didn't remind me of a harmless little kitten. She was a full-grown tigress, and she still looked like she wanted to do some damage. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,
719:The garden is a world filled with secrets. Slowly, I see more each day. The black pines twist and turn to form graceful shapes, while the moss is a carpet of green that invites you to sit by the pond. Even the stone lanterns, which dimly light the way at night, allow you to see only so much. ~ Gail Tsukiyama,
720:While they drove past the garden the shadows of the bare trees often fell across the road and hid the brilliant moonlight, but as soon as they were past the fence, the snowy plain bathed in moonlight and motionless spread out before them glittering like diamonds and dappled with bluish shadows. ~ Leo Tolstoy,
721:WILD THYME (Activity) This herb grows in a dense matted pattern, making it the perfect camouflage for fairy abodes and for sleeping fairy queens. A patch of thyme was traditionally set aside in herb gardens for the fairies to live in, somewhat like birdhouses are placed in the garden today. ~ Carolyn Turgeon,
722:I’m charming and
handsome. They take my pen.
I buy the poem from the garden
of bees for one euro. A touch
on the arm. A mystery word.
The sky has two faces.
For reasons unaccountable
my hand trembles.
In Roman times if they were
horrified of bees they kept it secret ~ Matthew Rohrer,
723:Marriage is almost as old as dirt, and it was defined in the garden between Adam and Eve. One man, one woman for life till death do you part. So I would never attempt to try to redefine marriage. And I don't think anyone else should either. So do I support the idea of gay marriage? No, I don't. ~ Kirk Cameron,
724:Syme strolled with her to a seat in the corner of the garden, and continued to pour out his opinions. For he was a sincere man, and in spite of his superficial airs and graces, at root a humble one. And it is always the humble man who talks too much; the proud man watches himself too closely. ~ G K Chesterton,
725:The single greatest lesson the garden teaches is that our relationship to the planet need not be zero-sum, and that as long as the sun still shines and people still can plan and plant, think and do, we can, if we bother to try, find ways to provide for ourselves without diminishing the world. ~ Michael Pollan,
726:If one sense breaks free from its bonds having a glimpse of the invisible it makes it apparent to all the others. You have seen how when one sheep jumps over the creek the whole flock follows. So drive the flock of your senses to pasture and let them graze on the heavenly flowers in the Garden of Truth. ~ Rumi,
727:A Flower Spoke To The Soil
A flower spoke to the soil
but its pains remained untold;
the bushes were pruned
but
they were trapped in snow.
They say the garden is abloom,
the sunshine washes the flowerbeds
and the cool reigns.
[Translated by Arvind Gigoo]
~ Dina Nath Nadim,
728:I wanted to eat of the fruit of all the trees in the garden of the world… And so, indeed, I went out, and so I lived. My only mistake was that I confined myself so exclusively to the trees of what seemed to me the sun-lit side of the garden, and shunned the other side for its shadow and its gloom. ~ Oscar Wilde,
729:In fine weather the old gentelman is almost constantly in the garden; and when it is too wet to go into it, he will look out the window at it, by the hour together. He has always something to do there, and you will see him digging, and sweeping, and cutting, and planting, with manifest delight. ~ Charles Dickens,
730:It's not atheists who get stuck in my caw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for awhile. We all must pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we... But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
731:This is the difference between Eldric and me. Had it been my job to transform the garden, I would have removed the clothesline. Clotheslines always make me think of undergarments, and although I’ve never been to Japan, I don’t imagine a memory-whiff of undergarments is at all À la Japonaise. ~ Franny Billingsley,
732:In the world at large, people are rewarded or punished in ways that are often utterly random. In the garden, cause and effect, labor and reward, are re-coupled. Gardening makes sense in a senseless world. By extension, then, the more gardens in the world, the more justice, the more sense is created. ~ Andrew Weil,
733:On the evening my mother-in-law died, the noise of a chance sudden downpour resounded in the walkway and through the garden, roaring as though everything around us were being hammered by a fall of pebbles. That was why I was unable to catch what she said in the last moments before her eyes closed. ~ Miyuki Miyabe,
734:The warm afternoon, the garden, the tray of empty glasses on the grass, succeeded in conveying foreboding and dissatisfaction; even the roses seemed to threaten violence, brimming over their plots of earth or arrested, scarlet, on the white wall of the house.

A Place in the Country ~ Shirley Hazzard,
735:Although you may not stumble across a Martian in the garden, you might stumble across yourself. The day that happens, you'll probably also scream a little. And that'll be perfectly all right, because it's not every day you realize you're a living planet dweller on a little island in the universe. ~ Jostein Gaarder,
736:My untidy habits drive me to follow the slash-and-burn principle. Work on a virgin table until the mess becomes unbearable, then move on to a clean table in a clean room - or, on a beautiful summer day like this, one of the five tables dotted around the garden. Trash that table and move on again. ~ Richard Dawkins,
737:The difference between me and many young people is, I don't carry music with me. I like to think. I don't use any modern convenience to be talking to other people, because I like my time to think. I go to the garden in the morning, and this time, I'm thinking ideas, I'm not drawing, I'm thinking. ~ Sergio Aragones,
738:The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect and use; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes the middle course, it gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. ~ Francis Bacon,
739:The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect and use; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes the middle course: it gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. ~ Francis Bacon,
740:The tumults of time are oft passed by in records of the private memoirist; for our days consist not of the Senatorial speech and the refracted solar beam cast through heroic cloud, but rather of bread eaten, and ink blotted, and talk of the sermon, and walks along the whiskery avenues in the garden. ~ M T Anderson,
741:Initially, when I first became a Christian and got into ministry, my thought was that God existed to make my life better and to take me to Heaven. Now I realize that it is not about me at all. It is all about God and that He did this to display His plan to restore the Earth to the Garden of Eden state. ~ Max Lucado,
742:My wretched feet, flayed and swollen to lameness by the sharp air of January, began to heal and subside under the gentler breathings of April; the nights and mornings no longer by their Canadian temperature froze the very blood in our veins; we could now endure the play-hour passed in the garden. ~ Charlotte Bronte,
743:And then he was kissing her, and she was struck by his nearness, his solidity, his smell. It was of the garden and the earth and the sun. When Cassandra opened her eyes, she realized she was crying. She wasn't sad, though, these were the tears of being found, of having come home after a long time away. ~ Kate Morton,
744:Foolish wise folk sneer at you; foolish wise folk would pull up the useless lilies, the needless roses, from the garden, would plant in their places only serviceable wholesome cabbage. But the Gardener knowing better, plants the silly short-lived flowers; foolish wise folk, asking for what purpose. ~ Jerome K Jerome,
745:The male has been persuaded to assume a certain onerous and disagreeable role with the promise of rewards -- material and psychological. Women may in the first place even have put it into his head. BE A MAN! may have been, metaphorically, what Eve uttered at the critical moment in the garden of Eden. ~ Wyndham Lewis,
746:Listening to the bell I feel the afflictions in me begin to dissolve. My mind becomes calm, my body relaxed, and a smile is born on my lips. Following the sound of the bell, my breath guides me back to the safe island of mindfulness. In the garden of my heart, the flower of peace blooms beautifully. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
747:Writing long books is a laborious and impoverishing act of foolishness: expanding in five hundred pages an idea that could be perfectly explained in a few minutes. A better procedure is to pretend that those books already exist and to offer a summary, a commentary.
   ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths?,
748:Large or small, [the garden] should be orderly and rich. It should be well fenced from the outside world. It should by no means imitate either the willfulness or the wildness of nature, but should look like a thing never to be seen except near the house. It should, in fact, look like part of the house. ~ William Morris,
749:Love is the central command in Scripture and judgment the central prohibition. Indeed, judgment is the “original sin” in Scripture. This is why the forbidden tree in the center of the garden—the prohibition around which life in the garden revolved—was called the “Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. ~ Gregory A Boyd,
750:Must you know that yours will be the “better” picture before you pick up the brush and paint? Can it not simply be another picture? Another expression of beauty? Must a rose be “better” than an iris in order to justify it’s existence? I tell you this: you are all flowers in the Garden of the Gods. ~ Neale Donald Walsch,
751:When you have gone beyond thinking, and if you can still remain alert, aware, as if one is fast asleep but still alert—deep down at the very core of one’s being a lamp goes on burning, a small candle of light—then you will see your original face. And to see your original face is to be back in the Garden of Eden. ~ Osho,
752:The first command given by God when Adam and Eve were pitched out of the Garden of Eden in the Book of Genesis is, "Be fruitful and multiply, and subdue the Earth." We've been trying to do that for a long time, and now the Earth is fighting back. I'm not sure that we're going to survive as a species. ~ John Shelby Spong,
753:Why did he tempt the original pair in the Garden?” asked Salah. “He is also called the satan which means ‘the accuser’ in God’s heavenly court.” Salah followed the explanation well. He knew that God’s divine council of holy ones surrounded Elohim’s throne and engaged in legal disputes of justice on earth. ~ Brian Godawa,
754:You might as well tell me there was nobody but Adam in the garden when Eve picked the apple. You say your wife was discontented? No woman ever knows she's discontented till some man tells her so. My God! I've seen smash-ups before now; but I never yet saw a marriage dissolved like a business partnership. ~ Edith Wharton,
755:I
LOCKE sank into a swoon;
The Garden died;
God took the spinning-jenny
Out of his side.

II
Where got I that truth?
Out of a medium's mouth.
Out of nothing it came,
Out of the forest loam,
Out of dark night where lay
The crowns of Nineveh.

~ William Butler Yeats, Fragments
,
756:Our children and grandchildren visit us regularly in the Élysée Palace . The little ones are constantly running around outside in the garden. The first time they were intimidated by this place, but now they move around here totally normally. I think it is important that people really live in this place. ~ Emmanuel Macron,
757:The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. 16And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, 17†but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat [4] of it you shall surely die. ~ Anonymous,
758:I plant rosemary all over the garden, so pleasant is it to know that at every few steps one may draw the kindly branchlets through one's hand, and have the enjoyment of their incomparable incense; and I grow it against walls, so that the sun may draw out its inexhaustible sweetness to greet me as I pass. ~ Gertrude Jekyll,
759:It was during the summer of 1845, in the garden, under the arbour, Pécuchet, with his feet up on a small seat, was reading aloud in his booming voice, tirelessly, only stopping to dip his fingers into his snuff-box. Bouvard was listening to him, pipe in mouth, legs apart, the top of his trousers undone. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
760:The garden [of Eden] is the realm of pure beauty from which man is expelled when he becomes interested in ethics, in the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil. The return into paradise, the homecoming, depends on him penetrating the veils of morality to glimpse again the lineaments of lost beauty. ~ John Carroll,
761:We are ourselves the stumbling-blocks in the way of our happiness. Place a common individual - by common, I mean with the common share of stupidity, custom, and discontent - place him in the garden of Eden, and he would not find it out unless he were told, and when told, he would not believe it. ~ Letitia Elizabeth Landon,
762:But, say you, surely there is nothing easier than for me to imagine trees, for instance, in a park [. . .] and nobody by to perceive them. [...] The objects of sense exist only when they are perceived; the trees therefore are in the garden [. . .] no longer than while there is somebody by to perceive them. ~ George Berkeley,
763:Fireflies in the Garden By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) Achieve at times a very star-like start. Only, of course, they can't sustain the part. ~ Robert Frost,
764:Genesis 10:7 is probably the most important verse in the Bible for the purposes of identifying the location of the Garden of Eden. This is because it groups Cush and Havilah together as son and grandson of Ham, the African hot countries. Eden was therefore a place in the region of the historically famous Cush. ~ Gert Muller,
765:How often I admire the taste shown in the garden which, within the house, may be indifferent. Here is an art which is today probably more perfect than at any previous time, one which does not break with the past, while it brings a sense of comely order, and a radiant beauty, to cottage and manor alike. ~ William Rothenstein,
766:The eighteenth-century view of the garden was that it should lead the observer to the enjoyment of the aesthetic sentiments of regularity and order, proportion, colour and utility, and, furthermore, be capable of arousing feelings of grandeur, gaiety, sadness, wildness, domesticity, surprise and secrecy. ~ Penelope Hobhouse,
767:In the Savage Garden you shine beautifully, my friend. You walk as if it is your garden to do with as you please. And in my wanderings, I always return to you. I always return to see the colours of the garden in your shadow, or reflected in your eyes, perhaps, or to hear of your latest follies and mad obsessions. ~ Anne Rice,
768:Must you know that yours will be the “better” picture before you pick up the brush and paint? Can it not simply be another picture? Another expression of beauty?
Must a rose be “better” than an iris in order to justify it’s existence?
I tell you this: you are all flowers in the Garden of the Gods. ~ Neale Donald Walsch,
769:Tradition had it that Al-Qurnah is the site of the Garden of Eden. Sear smiled at the thought and credited someone's twisted idea of humor. The desolation of the place was severe even for the Middle East. With all His choices, Sear figured God surely must have chosen somewhere else for the site of creation. ~ Nick Stephenson,
770:When you reach the little house, the place your journey started,

you will recognize it, although it will seem

much smaller than you remember.

Walk up the path, and through the garden gate

you never saw before but once.

And then go home.

Or make a home.

And rest. ~ Neil Gaiman,
771:You have to find your paper bag when you feel like you can’t get the air in,” Mykia said. She had an air of authority that had both boys hanging on her every word. “Is that what my mom’s doing?” Trey asked. “Is the garden her paper bag?” “Well,” Mykia said, resuming her dinner, “you are smarter than you look. ~ Loretta Nyhan,
772:A delicious fragrance wafted upward—roasted pork and crispy bacon and apples glazed in a rich wine sauce, resting on a bed of browned potatoes. Beside it was a bowl of fresh peas, swimming in butter seasoned with tarragon from the garden. And of course there was the baguette Vianne had made yesterday morning. ~ Kristin Hannah,
773:Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, weeding out all the wrong, useless, and impure thoughts, and cultivating toward perfection the flowers and fruits of right, useful, and pure thoughts. ~ James Allen,
774:Narissa was standing in the garden with Giuseppe, making grand sweeping gestures with her arms. Cass imagined her demanding rosebushes trimmed into the shapes of angels. Or perhaps she wanted the elderly gardener to stand on a ladder and pour buckets of water down into a basin to mimic a waterfall for the occasion. ~ Fiona Paul,
775:There's a lot of gimmick infringement out there, but that's cool. It's a compliment. But it all started right when I first came into the Garden. I came down to Eye of the Tiger and when I hit the ring with the Sheik, I just put my hand up to my ear by accident, and the crowd got louder. I was like "Oh, that works." ~ Hulk Hogan,
776:Coraline went over to the window and watched the rain come down. It wasn’t the kind of rain you could go out in, it was the other kind, the kind that threw itself down from the sky and splashed where it landed. It was rain that meant business, and currently its business was turning the garden into a muddy, wet soup. ~ Neil Gaiman,
777:'Freeing' a literary work into the public domain is less a public benefit than a transfer of wealth from the families of American writers to the executives and stockholders of various businesses who will continue to profit from, for example, 'The Garden Party,' while the descendants of Katherine Mansfield will not. ~ Mark Helprin,
778:My untidy habits drive me to follow the slash-and-burn (or Mad Hatter) principle. Work on a virgin table until the mess becomes unbearable, then move on to a clean table in a clean room — or, on a beautiful summer day like this, one of the five tables dotted around the garden. Trash that table and move on again. ~ Richard Dawkins,
779:Or perhaps that was not why I was crying, perhaps it was for quite different reasons, perhaps it was all the grief and misery I had accumulated over the last fifteen years that had now been released. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered, I just walked around the garden cutting the grass that had grown too tall. ~ Karl Ove Knausg rd,
780:She said: I wondered at a love that struts its glory through the garden's flowers as they blossom. I said: don't wonder at what you see. You see yourself in the mirror of a man. [2240.jpg] -- from Stations of Desire: Love Elegies from Ibn 'Arabi and New Poems, by Michael A. Sells

~ Ibn Arabi, In the Mirror of a Man
,
781:Sometimes they opened a book and closed it again; what was the point? On other days they had the idea of tidying up the garden, but after a quarter of an hour they felt tired; or of looking at their farm, but they came back sick at heart; or doing household jobs, but Germaine cried out in protest; they gave up. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
782:15The LORD God took the man  k and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. 16And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, 17but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil  l you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat [4] of it you  m shall surely die. ~ Anonymous,
783:And lo, there, immediately, was god, and he was furious. ‘How did you come up with the idea of me,’ he demanded, ‘who asked you to do that?’ and he threw them out of the garden, into, of all places, Iraq. ‘No good deed goes unpunished,’ said Eve to Adam, and that ought to be the motto of the entire human race. The ~ Salman Rushdie,
784:Coraline went over to the window and watched the rain come down. It wasn't the kind of rain you could go out in - it was the other kind, the kind that threw itself down from the sky and splashed where it landed. It was rain that meant business, and currently its business was turning the garden into a muddy, wet soup. ~ Neil Gaiman,
785:I find one vast garden spread out all over the universe. All plants, all human beings, all higher mind bodies are about in this garden in various ways, each has his own uniqueness and beauty. Their presence and variety give me great delight. Every one of you adds with his special feature to the glory of the garden. ~ Anandamayi Ma,
786:Others are fighting too, even in the Garden, where sometimes it feels like there’s not a lot worth fighting for. People are realizing and shouting and marching and demanding. They’re not forgetting. I think that’s the most important part. Khalil, I’ll never forget. I’ll never give up. I’ll never be quiet. I promise. ~ Angie Thomas,
787:Peter stood, cleared his throat, and began to hum softly, then sing, slowly building up the song as his voice cleared. He found the old tune, the song of the Sunbird. And as he sung, as his rich voice echoed off the tall cliffs, the birds and the faeries lent him their voice and soon the tune drifted throughtout the garden. ~ Brom,
788:Surely you're not saying that God had to choose between long life and intelligence for human beings! It's there in your own Bible, Carlotta. Two trees - knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying. ~ Orson Scott Card,
789:15The LORD God took the man  k and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it. 16And the LORD God commanded the man, saying, “You may surely eat of every tree of the garden, 17but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil  l��you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat [4] of it you  m shall surely die. ~ Anonymous,
790:I swear, since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare. A house of love with no limits, a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon, a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. ~ Rumi,
791:In the fable, the garden is a symbol for the mind,” said Julian. “If you care for your mind, if you nurture it and if you cultivate it just like a fertile, rich garden, it will blossom far beyond your expectations. But if you let the weeds take root, lasting peace of mind and deep inner harmony will always elude you. ~ Robin S Sharma,
792:The strange white world lay stroked by silence. No birds sang. The garden was no longer there, in this forested land. Nor were the out-buildings nor the old crumbling walls. There lay only a narrow clearing round the house now, hummocked with unbroken snowdrifts, before the trees began, with a narrow path leading away. ~ Susan Cooper,
793:walking away, Nelly also got to her feet and quickly took up her place beside Emma. Content and comfortable in each other’s company, Emma and Nelly meandered through the garden, a lovely place of stately old trees and spreading shrubs already heavy with buds. At the farthest end, away from the house, there was a small ~ Josephine Cox,
794:I returned to New Orleans and my problems with pari-mutuel windows and a dark-haired, milk-skinned wife from Martinique who went home with men from the Garden District while I was passed out in a houseboat on Lake Pontchartrain, the downdraft of U.S. Army helicopters flattening a plain of elephant grass in my dreams. ~ James Lee Burke,
795:Some people, after listening to Steve, would feel that they had reached a new level of insight, only to find afterward that they could not reconstruct the steps in his reasoning; then the insight would evaporate, leaving them scratching their heads, feeling they had been led down the garden path. Thus, reality distortion. ~ Ed Catmull,
796:Sweep the garden, any size, said the roshi. Sweeping, sweeping alone as the garden grows large or small. Any song sung working the garden brings up from sand gravel soil through straw bamboo wood and less tangible elements Power song for the hands Healing song for the senses what can and cannot be perceived of the soul. ~ Olga Broumas,
797:There are two important trees in the Garden of Eden: the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. We chose the wrong one. The fruit of the Tree of Life would have given us immortality. The fruit of the Tree of Knowledge informed us that we were nude, which, as knowledge goes, is pretty low down the list of amazing facts. ~ Mark Forsyth,
798:But would she ever recover fully inside? How would she handle being alone in the house? Would she ever again be able to hear someone walking up the garden path without that twinge of fear and panic? He didn’t know. The psyche regenerates itself, too, sometimes. We’re often a damn sight more resilient than we’d imagine. ~ Peter Robinson,
799:The very second the door closed behind them, Nicholas started shouting. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.
'I can't believe you did that!' he railed. 'After the field party, the vamps in the garden. Didn't you hear a single word I said?'
'No why don't you yell a little louder?'
'This isn't funny, Lucy. ~ Alyxandra Harvey,
800:Nachash,” croaked Jesus. It was the name of that ancient tempter in the Garden, the first of many names through the ages; Accuser, Mastema, Sammael, Diablos, Helel ben Shachar, the Serpent. “I am going by Belial these days. It has a nice ring to it.” Belial meant the personification of wickedness, treachery and rebellion. ~ Brian Godawa,
801:That evening was the evening of the full moon. The garden was an enchanted place where all the flowers seemed white. The lilies, the daphnes, the orange-blossom, the white stocks, the white pinks, the white roses - you could see these as plainly as in the daytime; but the coloured flowers existed only as fragrance. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
802:In the manger and in eternity, on the cross and on his throne, in the garden and in his kingdom, among thieves or in the midst of cherubim, he is everywhere "altogether lovely." Examine carefully every little act of his life, and every trait of his character, and he is as lovely in the minute as in the majestic. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,
803:Later that evening, as we sat in the garden having drinks, I caught Harry looking at me with a kind of doggy devotion in his eyes. I leaned back in my chair, well satisfied, both with my drink in such pleasant surroundings and with his devotion. It seemed like a balm to heal the little wound inflicted by Piers’s unkindness. ~ Barbara Pym,
804:She cried, "Laura," up the garden, "Did you miss me? Come and kiss me. Never mind my bruises, Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices Squeezed from goblin fruits for you, Goblin pulp and goblin dew. Eat me, drink me, love me; Laura, make much of me; For your sake I have braved the glen And had to do with goblin merchant men. ~ Christina Rossetti,
805:In the garden of Paradise, who was the monster and who was not? between the houses and apartments, and in the elevated spaces between the high buildings, in that hanging garden - who is, and who is not? how long can I stand not at least knowing what is looking at me? the raw roach is looking at me and its law sees mine ~ Clarice Lispector,
806:To conquer a piece of earth and make it as beautiful as one can dream of it being: That is art, too. A man cannot be separated from the earth. I come out of the garden every day feeling, oh, inspired in a way that one needs in order to convert the daily-ness of the life into something greater than that little life itself. ~ Stanley Kunitz,
807:Gardeners (or just plain simple writers who write about the garden) always have something they like intensely and in particular, right at the moment you engage them in the reality of the borders they cultivate, the space in the garden they occupy at any moment, they like in particular this, or they like in particular that. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
808:She had died peacefully, in her sleep, after an evening of listening to all of her favorite Fred Astaire songs, one crackling record after another. Once the last chord of the last piece had died out, she had stood up and opened the French doors to the garden outside, perhaps waiting to breathe in the honeysuckle one more time. ~ Anne Fortier,
809:A certain king had a beautiful garden, and in the garden stood a tree which bore golden apples. These apples were always counted, and about the time when they began to grow ripe it was found that every night one of them was gone. The king became very angry at this, and ordered the gardener to keep watch all night under the tree. ~ Jacob Grimm,
810:This is the path we take in cultivating joy: learning not to armor our basic goodness, learning to appreciate what we have. Most of the time we don’t do this. Rather than appreciate where we are, we continually struggle and nurture our dissatisfaction. It’s like trying to get the flowers to grow by pouring cement on the garden. ~ Pema Ch dr n,
811:Adam strokes my head, my face, he kisses my tears.

We are blessed.


Let them all go.


The sound of a bird flying low across the garden. Then nothing. Nothing. A cloud passes. Nothing again. Light falls through the window, falls onto me, into me.

Moments.

All gathering towards this one. ~ Jenny Downham,
812:If I were a bird that needs feathers to fly higher, my mother would be my strongest feather. She was extremely supportive. When I was one and a half, I took a whole handful of earthworms to bed with me. My mother said very quietly, "Jane, they will die if they leave the earth." And so, together, we put them back into the garden. ~ Jane Goodall,
813:Winter had stripped the garden and grounds to their bones. Dead grass crunched beneath Michael’s boots as he and Ada walked toward the ruin. Easy to see why Christmas would be necessary at this time of year. Warmth and green seemed like far memories. But the holiday could provide a welcome break from the relentless gray and chill. ~ Zoe Archer,
814:Martin Hart: Can I ask you something? You're a Christian, yeah?
Rustin Cohle: No.
Martin Hart: Well, whadaya got the cross for, in your apartment?
Rustin Cohle: It's a form of meditation.
Martin Hart: How's that?
Rustin Cohle: I contemplate the moment in the garden; the idea of allowing your own crucifixion. ~ Nic Pizzolatto,
815:The devil stole into the Garden of Eden. He carried with him the disease - amor deliria nervosa - in the form of a seed. It grew and flowered into a magnificent apple tree, which bore apples as bright as blood.

-From Genesis: A Complete History of the World and the Known Universe, by Steven Horace, PhD, Harvard University ~ Lauren Oliver,
816:Everyone knows that weeds eat out the life of the garden and of the productive fields. It's like that in the building and developing of character. No one knows our own faults and tendencies better than we do ourselves, so that it is up to each one of us to keep the weeds out, and to keep all growth vigorous and fruitful. ~ George Matthew Adams,
817:Behind them in the garden the little stone house brooded among the shadows. It was lonely but not forsaken. It had not yet done with dreams and laughter and the joy of life; there were to be future summers for the little stone house; meanwhile, it could wait. And over the river in purple durance the echoes bided their time. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery,
818:Perhaps everybody has a garden of Eden, I don't know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. ~ James Baldwin,
819:There was sadness in everything—in the room, in the ringing bird-calls from the garden, in the lit, golden lawn beyond the window, with its single miraculous cherry-tree breaking in immaculate blossom and tossing long foamy sprays against the sky. She was sad to the verge of tears, and yet the sorrow was rich—a suffocating joy. ~ Rosamond Lehmann,
820:The tales would be imperfect; the legends would be incomplete. And each and every one of us standing in the garden that night would take an entire universe of stories with us when we died, the accounts of every small moment that did not seem grand enough to storytellers, which would disappear in smoke when our bodies were burned. ~ Alwyn Hamilton,
821:Are some flowers more beautiful than others? The garden is beautiful. Do I prefer brother over brother? Comparisons are part of this political world. Where there is one, there is no conflict. Where there is two or more, there is conflict. Two is the devil. Conflict begin with the devil. We count 0 to 1, then back to 0. It is a circle. ~ Peter Tosh,
822:In a sense, Job must replay the original test of the garden of Eden, with the bar raised higher. Living in paradise, Adam and Eve faced a best-case scenario for trusting God, who asked so little of them and showered down blessings. In a living hell, Job faces the worst-case scenario: God asks so much, while curses rain down on him. ~ Philip Yancey,
823:Why couldn't I accept what was happening without trying to explain it, without bringing up ideas of order and disorder, of freedom, as one sets out geranium pots in a courtyard on the Calle Cochabamba? Maybe on had to fall into the depths of stupidity in order to make the key fit the lock to the latrine or to the Garden of Olives. ~ Julio Cort zar,
824:/Farsi I sometimes think that never blows so red The Rose as where some buried Caesar bled; That every Hyacinth the Garden wears Dropt in its Lap from some once lovely Head. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald

~ Omar Khayyam, 18 - I sometimes think that never blows so red
,
825:To the question of how to survive, his work said: be smart, make more, share with everyone else. It said: we can build a world of gleaming richness for all. And the concomitants of this world—the giant installations, the whirring machinery in the garden, the glare of artificial light in the night sky—are to be embraced, not feared. ~ Charles C Mann,
826:The essence of Christianity is told us in the Garden of Eden history. The fruit that was forbidden was on the tree of knowledge. The subtext is, 'All the suffering you have is because you wanted to find out what was going on. You could be in the Garden of Eden if you had just kept your fucking mouth shut and hadn't asked any questions. ~ Frank Zappa,
827:This is my favorite sister and wife, Awan,” said Cain. “Welcome to ‘the Hidden Valley’, my ‘Garden away from the Garden,’ I like to say. I have always had a green thumb. So I put it to good use.” Lamech remembered from stories that Cain was a worker of the ground. This secret paradise was a breathtaking incarnation of God-given skill. ~ Brian Godawa,
828:And what a wonderful relief every so often to know who the enemy is—because in the garden, the enemy is everything: the aphids, the weather, time. And so you pour yourself into it, care so much, and see up close so much birth and growth and beauty and danger and triumph—and then everything dies anyway, right? But you just keep doing it. ~ Anne Lamott,
829:I’ll emerge, with wings, from the banner I am, bird
that never alights on trees in the garden—
I will shed my skin and my language.
Some of my words of love will fall into
Lorca’s poems; he’ll live in my bedroom
and see what I have seen of the Bedouin moon. I’ll emerge
from almond trees like cotton on sea foam ~ Mahmoud Darwish,
830:In mathematical quarters, the regular division of the plane has been considered theoretically. ... [Mathematicians] have opened the gate leading to an extensive domain, but they have not entered this domain themselves. By their very nature they are more interested in the way in which the gate is opened than in the garden lying behind it. ~ M C Escher,
831:The girl who, twenty-four years ago to the day, stepped into my life with her big brown eyes, her hair in pigtails, sucking on a lollipop as she stared across at me through the garden fence and said, “I’m Trudy, you want a lollipop?” I let out a laugh as tears fill my eyes, realizing today’s date is August 31. The day Jake and I met. ~ Samantha Towle,
832:Visual reminders of creation and Eden could be found throughout this meeting point between heaven, earth and the world below. Carvings on the entry pillars, doors and walls depicted palm trees, sacred floral designs and cherubim (1Ki 6:29). These were all motifs from the garden, whose story had always factored into the theology of Israel. ~ Anonymous,
833:All our work in the field, in the garden, in the city, in the home, in struggle, in government-to what does it all amount before God except child's play, by means of which God is pleased to give his gifts in the field, at home, and everywhere? These are the masks of our Lord God, behind which he wants to be hidden and to do all things. ~ Martin Luther,
834:  Amid the Garden by the Tree of Life,   Remember what I warne thee, shun to taste,   And shun the bitter consequence: for know,   The day thou eat'st thereof, my sole command   Transgrest, inevitably thou shalt dye;   From that day mortal, and this happie State   Shalt loose, expell'd from hence into a World   Of woe and sorrow. Sternly ~ John Milton,
835:In The Meadow - What In The Meadow?
In the meadow - what in the meadow?
Bluebells, buttercups, meadowsweet,
And fairy rings for the children's feet
In the meadow.
In the garden - what in the garden?
Jacob's-ladder and Solomon's-seal,
And Love-lies-bleeding beside All-heal
In the garden.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,
836:Then after all this reverse the procedure. Have a good love affair. And the thing you might learn is that nobody knows anything— not the State, nor the mice the garden hose or the North Star. And if you ever catch me teaching a creative writing class and you read this back to me I’ll give you a straight A right up the pickle barrel. ~ Charles Bukowski,
837:Virginia was working in the garden, and her husband Leonard called out for her to come inside, that Hitler was just about to speak on the radio.

Virginia refused. “I am planting irises,” she said, “and they will be here long after Hitler is gone.”


And they are. You can go see the irises at their house, still blooming. ~ Connie Willis,
838:/Farsi My heart searched for your fragrance in the breeze moving at dawn, my eyes searched for the flower of your face in the garden of creation. Neither could lead me to your abode -- contemplation alone showed me the way. [2365.jpg] -- from Sarmad: Martyr to Love Divine, by Isaac A. Ezekiel

~ Sarmad, My heart searched for your fragrance
,
839:She found Safiye leaning against an oil lantern out in the garden and saw for herself that she wasn't the only foolish woman in the world, or even at that party, for Safiye had Lucy's highly polished bangle in her hand and was turning it this way and that in order to catch fireflies in the billowing, transparent left sleeve of her gown. ~ Helen Oyeyemi,
840:Raising her arms, she defied Heaven.
'So,' she cried, 'you prefer your God to me? You think he is stronger than I am. You think he will love you better than I would? Ah, what a child you are! Do stop talking such twaddle. What we are going to do is go back to the garden together, and love each other, be happy and free, for that is life. ~ mile Zola,
841:Fireflies in the Garden
By Robert Frost 1874–1963

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,
And here on earth come emulating flies,
That though they never equal stars in size,
(And they were never really stars at heart)
Achieve at times a very star-like start.
Only, of course, they can't sustain the part. ~ Robert Frost,
842:My room, my books, my house, the garden, my interest in everything around me renewed by absence. This little world suddenly special, no longer commonplace … something to relish. It’s a remarkable feeling and one which I count as paradoxically one of the great pleasures of travel. The almost sensuous delight in the ordinary and commonplace. ~ Michael Palin,
843:The Garden
Excerpt from "Maud"
She is coming, my own, my sweet;
Were it ever so airy a tread,
My heart would hear her and beat,
Were it earth in an earthy bed;
My dust would hear her and beat,
Had I lain for a century dead,
Would start and tremble under her feet,
And blossom in purple and red.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
844:Almost overnight I switched strategy to positive reinforcement – reward good behaviour and ignore the bad. If a not-yet-house-trained puppy does his job in the garden, he gets cuddled and praised. But if he has an accident inside the house, I just clean up. No anger, no shouting, no whacking. To my astonishment, the dogs learnt very quickly. ~ Janaki Lenin,
845:When she felt the moment had come, she turned to the moon and played a sonata in homage to it, knowing that the moon was listening and would feel proud, and that this would provoke the jealousy of the stars. Then she played music for the stars, for the garden, for the mountains she could not see in the darkness but which she knew were there. ~ Paulo Coelho,
846:Whole cities shut down, but the garden just keeps going. Plants don't run on electricity or clock time, and none of nature does. Nature runs on sunlight and rain and the seasons, and I am part of that system. My body is part of nature...This system is much stronger than the other. It isn't some disgrace to be a part of it. It is an honor. ~ Paul Fleischman,
847:I swear, since seeing Your face,
the whole world is fraud and fantasy
The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf
or blossom. The distracted birds
can't distinguish the birdseed from the snare.

A house of love with no limits,
a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon,
a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. ~ Rumi,
848:Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone: And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky. ~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
849:/Farsi Look to the Rose that blows about us -- "Lo, "Laughing," she says, "into the World I blow: "At once the silken Tassel of my Purse "Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw." [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, by Omar Khayyam / Translated by Edward FitzGerald

~ Omar Khayyam, 13 - Look to the Rose that blows about us -- Lo
,
850:I smell the wet black dirt and remember days in the garden, when it would have been possible to stand and run to my wife or stand and run to my son. But I did not do so. I concerned myself with parsley or yams or pulling weeds. I had so much and all at once. There is too much light in those thoughts. Light everywhere. It obliterates me. I recoil. ~ Jesse Ball,
851:Develop a lust for learning. Read regularly. Reading for 30 minutes a day will do wonders for you. Do not read just anything. Be very selective about what you put into the garden of your mind. It must be immensely nourishing. Make it something that will improve both you and the quality of your life. Something that will inspire and elevate you. ~ Robin S Sharma,
852:He stopped and looked at her. "Your eyes are leaking."
"It's the flowers. They make me sneeze."
"Then let us be away from the garden. Open the door, love, if you will."
She obeyed, then froze halfway over the threshold. "What did you call me?"
"The first of countless endearments if you'll but stir yourself to hold our current course. ~ Lynn Kurland,
853:On the day the tree bloomed in the fall, when its white apple blossoms fell and covered the ground like snow, it was tradition for the Waverleys to gather in the garden like survivors of some great catastrophe, hugging one another, laughing as they touched faces and arms, making sure they were all okay, grateful to have gotten through it. ~ Sarah Addison Allen,
854:You don't know much," he murmurs.
"You know all the wrong things."
"Wrong? Not to me." He shakes his head. He looks so sincere. "Try it," he whispers.
A challenge, daring me, and he cocks his head to one side and smiles his crooked, dazzling smile.
I gasp, and I'm Eve in the Garden of Eden, and he's the serpent, and I cannot resist. ~ E L James,
855:Love—the desire to love and be loved, to hold and be held, to give love even if your experience as a recipient has been compromised or incomplete—is the constant on the continuum of hunger, it's what links the anorexic to the garden-variety dieter, it's the persistent pulse of need and yearning behind the reach for food, for sex, for something. ~ Caroline Knapp,
856:Marcus took a deep breath "Alex, what happened exactly?"
"I've already told you everything. I ran into her in the garden. She was talking one second and the next, she just sort of poofed---"
"She poofed?" Seth laughed. He lounged in the corner, arms folded across his chest, and that damn smile plastered across his face. "Seriously? ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,
857:Whatever ill or sorrow the devil may work in the world—and so much he works, Edgar, so much—God takes all and turns it to good. David sinned with the wife of Uriah, and God brought Solomon to the world. The father of all sinned in the garden, and we got Christ. Even Christ—betrayed and killed. But what came of it, Edgar? A way out of death. What ~ Jordan M Poss,
858:At the end of history the whole earth has become the Garden of God again. Death and decay and suffering are gone. . . . Jesus will make the world our perfect home again. We will no longer be living 'east of Eden,' always wandering and never arriving. We will come, and the father will meet us and embrace us, and we will be brought into the feast. ~ Timothy Keller,
859:Do you, good people, believe that Adam and Eve were created in the Garden of Eden and that they were forbidden to eat from the tree of knowledge? I do. The church has always been afraid of that tree. It still is afraid of knowledge. Some of you say religion makes people happy. So does laughing gas. So does whiskey. I believe in the brain of man. ~ Clarence Darrow,
860:I’ll bet you can’t tell me who designed the garden. I’ll give you a clue: it’s later than the house.’ ‘I’ve only ever heard of one landscape gardener,’ said Harry, still staring at the house. ‘Capability Brown.’ ‘That’s exactly why we chose him,’ said Giles, ‘simply so that my friends would have heard of the fellow two hundred years later.’ Harry ~ Jeffrey Archer,
861:We all have an idealised picture of the garden that we have carried around in our heads from the moment it became ours and which, I guess, is never the same as the growing reality. Over the years that the garden is coming into being that image carries you forward and inspires you, but when things reach maturity, the cold light of reality can be harsh. ~ Monty Don,
862:With a great effort the Don opened his eyes to see his son once more.
...
He smelled the garden, the yellow shield of light smote his eyes, and he whispered, "Life is so beautiful."
...
Yet, he thought, if I can die saying, "Life is so beautiful," then nothing else is important. If I can believe in myself that much, nothing else matters. ~ Mario Puzo,
863:It happens so seldom; I must catch and keep this slender yearning, a rare beetle in a jam-jar trap. But mustering will is not the same as wanting. I lie in the garden and think about all the footsteps between my body on the grass and my pencil-case and notebook on the table in the sun room. All the muscles I have to flex and relax to get myself there. ~ Sara Baume,
864:The creative process is just a process and you can't really separate it from life. Growing your hair is a creative process. Your body is creating hair. Being alive is a creative process. Whether it's growing something in the garden or growing a song, the material accumulates. It's the process of being alive; it's the passage of time. Things change. ~ Antony Hegarty,
865:Yellow and fresh are the lanterns,
Black is the road of the garden at sea.

I am very calm.
Only please, do not
Talk about him with me.

You're tender and loyal, we'll be friends.
.

Have fun, kiss, together grow old.
.

And light months above us will fly like feathers,
Like stars made of snow and as cold. ~ Anna Akhmatova,
866:I’d be no use in a town,” said Mary. “I’ve never known anything but this life by the river, and I don’t want to. Going into Helston is town enough for me. I’m best here, with the few chickens that’s left to us, and the green stuff in the garden, and the old pig, and a bit of a boat on the river. What would I do up to Bodmin with my Aunt Patience? ~ Daphne du Maurier,
867:I think of Jesus’s legs cracked and bleeding on the Easter-cross and I see in him the foolishness of a weak God, then, three days later, legs strong and whole, standing in the garden before Mary and Thomas and the disciples telling the world to touch and see, he is God. And he is power. And he is trustworthy. In spite of appearing foolish and weak. ~ Emily T Wierenga,
868:Martín de Córdoba, a distinguished Augustinian friar, disagreed strongly. In a book he wrote to guide Isabella in the exercise of authority, The Garden of Noble Ladies, he claimed that it was ignorant or old-fashioned to ‘believe it evil when some kingdom or other polity falls to a woman’s government … I, as I will declare, hold the contrary opinion. ~ Giles Tremlett,
869:She cried, "Laura," up the garden,
"Did you miss me?
Come and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises,
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Goblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me;
Laura, make much of me;
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men. ~ Christina Rossetti,
870:sipping wine or preparing food. The whole time their baby alone in the garden. I followed her when Chris played golf. It broke my heart how she neglected Ben. She was always more interested in her photography than she was in her baby. I waited for her to return that night. I couldn’t understand why they were so late getting back. Didn’t she realise the ~ Lynda Renham,
871:There was dancing on the canvas in the garden; oöd men pushing young girls backwards in eternal graceless circles, superior couples holding each other tortuously, fashionably, and keeping in the corners - and a great number of single girls dancing individualistically or relieving the orchestra for a moment of the burden of the banjo of the traps. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
872:While she was playing that music for the garden, another crazy person appeared : Eduard, a schizophrenic who was beyond all cure. She was not frightened by his presence; on the contrary, she smiled, and to her surprise, he smiled back.
The music could penetrate even his remote world, more distant than the moon itself; it could even perform miracles. ~ Paulo Coelho,
873:No really. If you only have seven years left, that means the Reaper will be dropping round for tea and buns in about 61,000 hours from now. You therefore shouldn’t be wasting time by pootling to the garden centre at walking pace. So come on, grandad. The clock’s ticking. Pedal to the metal. Or you’ll be in your flowerbed before the plants you bought. ~ Jeremy Clarkson,
874:If you are in the garden, I will dress myself in leaves. If you are in the sea I will slide into that smooth blue nest, I will talk fish, I will adore salt. But if you are sad, I will not dress myself in desolation. I will present myself with all the laughters I can muster. And if you are angry I will come, calm and steady, with some small and easy story. ~ Mary Oliver,
875:Look, here is a tree in the garden and every summer is produces apples, and we call it an apple tree because the tree "apples." That's what it does. Alright, now here is a solar system inside a galaxy, and one of the peculiarities of this solar system is that at least on the planet earth, the thing peoples! In just the same way that an apple tree apples! ~ Alan W Watts,
876:Our intentions - noticed or unnoticed, gross or subtle contribute either to our suffering or to our happiness. Intentions are sometimes called seeds. The garden you grow depends on the seeds you plant and water. Long after a deed is done, the trace or momentum of the intention behind it remains as a seed, conditioning our future happiness or unhappiness. ~ Gil Fronsdal,
877:The familiar song of a night-singing nightingale rises from somewhere in the garden. A nightingale that in this season of cold should not be in the garden, a nightingale that in a thousand verses of Iranian poetry, in the hours of darkness, for the love of a red rose and in sorrow of its separation from it, has forever sung and will forever sing. ~ Shahriar Mandanipour,
878:Surely there was some divine trick to make the hours go faster. To let them slip past unseen, to sleep for years, so that when I woke again the world would be new. I closed my eyes. Through the window I heard the bees singing in the garden. My lion’s tail beat against the stones. An eternity later, when I opened my eyes, the shadows had not even moved. ~ Madeline Miller,
879:It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to 'see through' [everything]. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To 'see through' all things is the same as not to see. ~ C S Lewis,
880:The Bible has come under fire for making woman the fall guy in man's cosmic drama. But in casting a male conspirator, the serpent, as God's enemy, Genesis hedges and does not take its misogyny far enough. The Bible defensively swerves from God's true opponent, chthonian nature. The serpent is not outside Eve but in her. She is the garden and the serpent. ~ Camille Paglia,
881:Now I am in the garden at the back . . . a very preserve of butterflies as I remember it, with a high fence, and a gate . . . where the fruit clusters on the trees, riper and richer than fruit has ever been since, in any other garden, and where my mother gathers some in a basket while I stand by, bolting furtive gooseberries, and trying to look unnerved. ~ Charles Dickens,
882:We’re going to watch the sun set,” he says. “I’m not sitting here any longer. Too much misery in this room. I need out.”

Lils sneers. “And you want us to all traipse off to the garden and watch the sun set because you hate dealing with reality?”

“I can deal with reality perfectly well,” he says back, grinning. “I just don’t see why I should. ~ Cat Hellisen,
883:Cold Mountain Buddhas Han Shan  Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness be dancing. Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning. The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry, The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony Of death and birth. ~ T S Eliot,
884:I envy you for all the years you still have left to live. I shall go into my last room and from there into the garden. Yes, that is how it will be. I shall stride through tall, inviting French windows and straight into the sunset. And then…then I shall become light, and then I can be everywhere. That would be my nature; I would be there always, every evening. ~ Nina George,
885:I keep wondering if, say, there is intelligent life on other planets, the scientists argue that something like two percent of the other planets have the conditions, the physical conditions, to support life in the way it happened here, did Christ visit each and every planet, go through the same routine, the Agony in the Garden, the Crucifixion, and so on. ~ Donald Barthelme,
886:We're all assigned a piece of the garden, a corner of the universe that is ours to transform. Our corner of the universe is our own life - our relationships, our homes, our work, our current circumstances -. exactly as they are. Every situation we find ourselves in is an opportunity, perfectly planned by the Holy Spirit, to teach love instead of fear. ~ Marianne Williamson,
887:Do not go to the garden of flowers! O friend! go not there; In your body is the garden of flowers. Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus, and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty. [bk1sm.gif] -- from One Hundred Poems of Kabir: Translated by Rabindranath Tagore, by Kabir / Translated by Rabindranath Tagore

~ Kabir, Do not go to the garden of flowers!
,
888:Her delight in the smallest things was like that of a child. There were days when she ran in the garden, like a child of ten, after a butterfly or a dragon-fly. This courtesan who had cost more money in bouquets than would have kept a whole family in comfort, would sometimes sit on the grass for an hour, examining the simple flower whose name she bore. ~ Alexandre Dumas fils,
889:We live in an age of science and of abundance. The care and reverence for books as such, proper to an age when no book was duplicated until someone took the pains to copy it out by hand, is obviously no longer suited to ’the needs of society’, or to the conservation of learning. The weeder is supremely needed if the Garden of the Muses is to persist as a garden. ~ Ezra Pound,
890:And even in my most carnal desires, oriented always in a particular direction, concentrated round a single dream, I might have recognized as their primary motive an idea, an idea for which I would have laid down my life, at the innermost core of which, as in my day-dreams while I sat reading all afternoon in the garden at Combray, lay the notion of perfection. ~ Marcel Proust,
891:How could you give me life, and take from me all the inappreciable things that raise it from the state of conscious death? Where are the graces of my soul? Where are the sentiments of my heart? What have you done, oh, Father, What have you done with the garden that should have bloomed once, in this great wilderness here? Said louisa as she touched her heart. ~ Charles Dickens,
892:Life is cooking us, and we resist because we don’t know our purpose in life, the “meal” that is being prepared. The cook says to the chickpeas, “You were once drinking fresh dew in the garden. That was so you could be a nice meal for the Guest. Don’t dwell on the self you think you are. Let yourself be transformed into something even better—a meal for the ~ Neil Douglas Klotz,
893:Siena was heading into the garden, both arms laden with parcels.
“What is all of that?” Cass asked. She glanced up at the thick glass window at the back of the villa to make sure no one was watching them.
“Were you planning to wear your favorite dress into the Doge’s dungeons?” Siena asked, stacking several of the wrapped packages on the bench next to Cass. ~ Fiona Paul,
894:The first gatherings of the garden in May of salads, radishes and herbs made me feel like a mother about her baby - how could anything so beautiful be mine. And this emotion of wonder filled me for each vegetable as it was gathered every year. There is nothing that is comparable to it, as satisfactory or as thrilling, as gathering the vegetables one has grown. ~ Alice B Toklas,
895:The King who is more successful in...in what? Perhaps in overthrowing the tyrannical reign of the king of tears, replacing that sad and bitter king with his own legitimate reign of happiness: the end of the Black Iron Prison and the beginning of the age of the Garden of Palm Trees in the warm sun of Arabia ("Felix" also refers to the fertile portion of Arabia.) ~ Philip K Dick,
896:Well then, can I walk along beside you? I have come to lose the smog.
And I feel myself a cog in something turning.
And maybe it’s the time of year, yes, and maybe it’s the time of man.
And I don’t know who I am but life is for learning.
We are stardust, we are golden, we are billion year old carbon,
And we got to get ourselves back to the garden. ~ David Crosby,
897:But in the garden the sun still shone. The innumerable bees hummed. The scent of thyme hung on the air. But only the Natterjack was there to breathe the fragrant essence of it.

He and the garden were waiting. They were waiting for more children. They didn't care how long they waited. They had all the time in the world.

-The Time Garden, Edward Eager ~ Edward Eager,
898:I have sent you to the Garden of the Gods and offered you the whole world in which to play. I have provided sufficient bounty to make certain that there is enough for everyone. No one should go hungry, least of all die of hunger. No one need be without clothing to keep warm, nor should anyone be without shelter from the storm. There is enough for everyone. ~ Neale Donald Walsch,
899:As soon as I arrived I made an attempt to find my host but the two or three people of whom I asked his whereabouts stared at me in such an amazed way and denied so vehemently an knowledge of his movements that I slunk off in the direction of the cocktail table--the only place in the garden where a single man could linger without looking purposeless and alone. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
900:The City Mouse And The Garden Mouse
The city mouse lives in a house; The garden mouse lives in a bower,
He's friendly with the frogs and toads,
And sees the pretty plants in flower.
The city mouse eats bread and cheese; The garden mouse eats what he can;
We will not grudge him seeds and stalks,
Poor little timid furry man.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,
901:Water. Its sunny track in the plain; its splashing in the garden canal, the sound it makes when in its course it meets the mane ofthe grass; the diluted reflection of the sky together with the fleeting sight of the reeds; the Negresses fill their dripping gourds and their red clay containers; the song of the washerwomen; the gorged fields the tall crops ripening. ~ Jacques Roumain,
902:But by 1925 Fawcett had filled his papers with reams of delirious writings about the end of the world and about a mystical Atlantean kingdom, which resembled the Garden of Eden. Z was transformed into “the cradle of all civilizations” and the center of one of Blavatsky’s “White Lodges,” where a group of higher spiritual beings helped to direct the fate of the universe. ~ David Grann,
903:Image-bearers always go in or on a temple. And they can't move. They are metal, wood, stone, etc. But in Genesis the images are flesh. A divine mix of spirit, flesh, love, and humanness. And Adam and Eve are placed in the garden, which is God saying loud and clear that from the beginning he wants to flood the earth with his presence. The whole world is his temple. ~ Jefferson Bethke,
904:Though the rest of the earth fell under human sin, Eden was for some reason treated differently. Perhaps it had come from Heaven, God’s dwelling place, and was transplanted to Earth. We don’t know. But we do know this: God came to Eden to visit with Adam and Eve (Genesis 3:8), which he would no longer do after Adam and Eve were banished from the Garden after the Fall. ~ Randy Alcorn,
905:Whether it is seen in personal terms or trans-personal terms, whether it is Heaven or Nirvana or Happy Hunting Ground or the Garden of Paradise, the weight and authority of tradition maintains that death is just an alteration in our state of consciousness, and that the quality of our continued existence in the afterlife depends on the quality of our living here and now. ~ John Smith,
906:1220
When I Count The Seeds
40
When I count the seeds
That are sown beneath,
To bloom so, bye and bye—
When I con the people
Lain so low,
To be received as high—
When I believe the garden
Mortal shall not see—
Pick by faith its blossom
And avoid its Bee,
I can spare this summer, unreluctantly.
~ Emily Dickinson,
907:They ride over pebbles and patches of dusk-colored sunlight, underneath the spread arms of the live oaks and the promise of their green leaves, past houses full of people and rules and prayers and magic. Hannah looks at Baker, and Baker extends her hand outward into the space between them, holding it palm-up for Hannah to take, right there in the heart of the garden. ~ Kelly Quindlen,
908:I swear, since seeing Your face,
the whole world is fraud and fantasy
The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf
or blossom. The distracted birds
can't distinguish the birdseed from the snare.

A house of love with no limits,
a presence more beautiful than venus or the moon,
a beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart.
~ Jalaluddin Rumi, I Swear
,
909:It is a laborious madness and an impoverishing one, the madness of composing vast books - setting out in five hundred pages an idea that can be perfectly related orally in five minutes. The better way to go about it is to pretend that those books already exist, and offer a summary, a commentary on them." (From the Introduction of 1941's The Garden of Forking Paths) ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
910:It was the end of August — the time when owls hoot at night and flurries of bats swoop noiselessly over the garden. Moomin Wood was full of glow-worms, and the sea was disturbed. There was expectation and a certain sadness in the air, and the harvest moon came up huge and yellow. Moomintroll had always liked those last weeks of summer most, but he didn’t really know why. ~ Tove Jansson,
911:Enjoyment comes from wandering through a series of vistas, from noticing how bamboo shadows cast against a whitewashed wall create a scene or how latticework openings in a wall play a role in the illusion of shadow and light. The visitor is unaware and uncaring of the garden’s boundaries, barely glimpsed through pine and bamboo, obscured so that the garden appears endless… ~ Janie Chang,
912:I was a tomboy running around in the garden. I used to play on a local cricket team. I grew up with all boy cousins, for the most part, and my brother. My mother was in the kind of late-sixties, early-seventies origins of female emancipation. And she was very much like, "You're not going to be defined by how you look. It's going to be about who you are and what you do." ~ Felicity Jones,
913:No, of course not. The Redemption is nothing like a fairy tale, Miss Prim. Fairy tales and ancient legends arelike the Redemption. Haven’t you ever noticed? It’s like when you copy a tree from the garden on a piece of paper. The tree from the garden doesn’t look like the drawing, does it? It’s the drawing that’s a bit, just a little bit, like the real tree. ~ Natalia Sanmart n Fenollera,
914:Who can stop climate change? We can. You and you and you, and me. And it is not just that we can stop it, we have a responsibility to do so that began in the genesis of humanity, when God commanded the earliest human inhabitants of the Garden of Eden, "to till it and keep it". To "keep" it; not to abuse it, not to make as much money as possible from it, not to destroy it. ~ Desmond Tutu,
915:I had traveled far, had circled the planet and studied my Torah, and at the very end of my search I was standing, finally, in the place where everything begins: the tree in the garden, the tree of knowledge that, as I learned long ago, is something divided, something that because growth occurs only through the medium of time, brings both pleasure and, finally, sorrow. ~ Daniel Mendelsohn,
916:The garden flourished that summer because Magnus's mother was determined to feed her family despite the depredations of the distant war. In the fall, there were beans and tomatoes and pickles to can, and jar after jar of applesauce. Mama's hives yielded fresh honey, and then willow skeps were winterized. The bees would not come out until the air warmed and the sun appeared. ~ Susan Wiggs,
917:We can be hindered in our development and our personal growth by political conditions. Outer circumstances can constrain us. Only when we are free to develop our innate abilities can we live as free beings. But we are just as much determined by inner potential and outer opportunities as the Stone Age boy on the Rhine, the lion in Africa, or the apple tree in the garden. ~ Jostein Gaarder,
918:Object in/ and space - the first impulse may be to give the object - a position - to place the object. (The object had a position to begin with.) Next - to change the position of the object. - Rauschenberg's early sculptures - A board with some rocks on it. The rocks can be anywhere on the board. - Cage's Japanese rock garden - The rocks can be anywhere (within the garden). ~ Jasper Johns,
919:The Garden passes by my window. Older folks water their flowers or bring out their trash cans. A couple of cars blast music on high. Seems normal, but things haven't been the same since the riots. The neighborhood doesn't feel nearly as safe. Not that the Garden was ever a utopia, hell no, but before I only worried about GDs and Crowns. Now I gotta worry about the cops too? ~ Angie Thomas,
920:Two years ago, I was saying as I planted seeds in the garden, "I must believe in these seeds, that they fall into the earth and grow into flowers and radishes and beans." It is a miracle to me because I do not understand it. The very fact that they use glib technical phrases does not make it any less a miracle, and a miracle we all accept. Then why not accept God's miracles? ~ Dorothy Day,
921:Hello?” a confused voice called. A woman who looked older than Yaw, carrying a clay bowl, rounded the corner. When she saw Yaw, saw his scar, she gasped, and the bowl fell to the ground, shattering, scattering pieces of red clay from the door all the way into the garden. Tiny pieces of clay that they would never find, that would be absorbed into that earth from which they came. ~ Yaa Gyasi,
922:I've learned a lot about women. I think I've learned exactly how the fall of man occured in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were in the Garden of Eden, and Adam said one day, Wow, Eve, here we are, at one with nature, at one with God, we'll never age, we'll never die, and all our dreams come true the instant that we have them. And Eve said, Yeah... it's just not enough is it? ~ Bill Hicks,
923:Tengo stood by the window and looked at the scene outside. Beyond the garden and lawn was the dark line of the pine windbreak, through which came the sound of waves. The rough waves of the Pacific. It was thick, darkish sound, as if many souls were gathered, each whispering his story. They seemed to be seeking more souls to join them, seeking even more stories to be told. ~ Haruki Murakami,
924:Earthly love is a brief and penurious stream, which only flows in spring, with a long summer drought. The change from a burning desert, treeless, springless, drear, to green fields and blooming orchards in June, is slight in comparison with that from the desert of this world's affection to the garden of God, where there is perpetual, tropical luxuriance of blessed love. ~ Henry Ward Beecher,
925:One night they walked while the moon rose and poured a great burden of glory over the garden until it seemed fairyland with Amory and Eleanor, dim phantasmal shapes, expressing eternal beauty and curious elfin love moods. Then they turned out of the moonlight into the trellised darkness of a vine-hung pagoda, where there were scents so plaintive as to be nearly musical. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
926:Today I'm flying low and I'm not saying a word. I'm letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep. The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten. And so forth. But I'm taking the day off. Quiet as a feather. I hardly move though really I'm traveling a terrific distance. Stillness. One of the doors into the temple. ~ Mary Oliver,
927:It didn't even help that I had a man watching the house.I suppose he can be forgiven for not thinking Mary Pearson could be a threat."
"I knew about him," Rebecca replied. "I found him hiding in the garden this morning. I took him some cookies."
Rupert laughed. "Did you? How embarrassing for him, but that was probably my mother's spy.Mine would have been better hidden! ~ Johanna Lindsey,
928:When you plant seeds in the garden, you don’t dig them up every day to see if they have sprouted yet. You simply water them and clear away the weeds; you know that the seeds will grow in time. Similarly, just do your daily practice and cultivate a kind heart. Abandon impatience and instead be content creating the causes for goodness; the results will come when they’re ready. ~ Thubten Chodron,
929:The relativity principle in connection with the basic Maxwellian equations demands that the mass should be a direct measure of the energy contained in a body; light transfers mass. With radium there should be a noticeable diminution of mass. The idea is amusing and enticing; but whether the Almighty is laughing at it and is leading me up the garden path -- that I cannot know. ~ Albert Einstein,
930:Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered.
“We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and
uncle not to worry —”
“They won’t,” said Harry.
“That you’re safe —”
“That’ll just depress them.”
“— and you’ll see them next summer.”
“Do I have to? ~ J K Rowling,
931:In some ways, I saw the garden as a metaphor for certain aspects of my life. A leader must also tend his garden; he, too, plants seeds, and then watches, cultivates, and harvests the results. Like the gardener, a leader must take responsibility for what he cultivates; he must mind his work, try to repel enemies, preserve what can be preserved, and eliminate what cannot succeed. ~ Nelson Mandela,
932:He was particulary drawn to these two clerks by the fact that they both had crooked noses, one bent to the left and the other to the right. They took him finally to a pleasure garden, where he paid for their entrance. There was one lanky three-year-old pine tree and three bushes in the garden, besides a vauxhal, which was in reality a drinking-bar where tea too was served... ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
933:The company you keep is important. If you leave your coat in a room where people are smoking, pretty soon it will smell of smoke. If you leave it outside in the garden, later on, when you bring it indoors, it will carry with it the fragrance of fresh air and flowers.
"Such is the case with the mind. Your garment of thoughts absorbs the vibrations of those with whom you mix. ~ Swami Kriyananda,
934:When Cynthia smiles, said young Bingo, the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles. He coughed, changing gears. When Cynthia frowns - What the devil are you talking about?I'm reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I'll go on, shall I?No!No?No. I haven't had my tea. ~ P G Wodehouse,
935:I eat gaijin for breakfast…" His words trailed off as Jilly came out of the house, in her pseudo-frock, her combat boots, her spiky hair and her young, young face. He just stared at her, motionless, as if someone had clubbed him over the head with a mallet.
Jilly froze where she was, staring back at the exotic creature in black leather and bright red hair who'd invaded the garden. ~ Anne Stuart,
936:Mrs. Craven was a very lovely young lady," he had gone on rather hesitatingly. "An' mother she thinks maybe she's about Misselthwaite many a time lookin' after Mester Colin, same as all mothers do when they're took out o' th' world. They have to come back, tha' sees. Happen she's been in the garden an' happen it was her set us to work, an' told us to bring him here." Mary ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
937:The sunlight could not quite dispel the difference in atmosphere now that she had seen the interior of the garden. It was as if a dark underside had been revealed that changed the cast of the whole property. But the whimsy of it, the way the eye was drawn down through every vista, the inventiveness, the fairy-tale quality, the melancholy of the lost gardens- it all excited her. ~ Deborah Lawrenson,
938:The Garden Under Snow "
Now the garden is under snow
a blank page our footprints write on
clare who was never mine
but always belonged to herself
Sleeping Beauty
a crystalline blanket
this is her spring
this is her sleeping/awakening
she is waiting
everything is waiting
the improbable shapes of roots
my baby
her face
a garden, waiting. ~ Audrey Niffenegger,
939:You cannot unsee what has been seen once the veil is lifted, Reverend Olumide says in church. We cannot return to the garden of Eden. When I meet with him he says I need to confront my fears, that the devil torments us with that which scares us most. So, I cross the line between the blue hallways tiles and the white locker-room floor and navigate my way to locker umber thirty-two. ~ Uzodinma Iweala,
940:In England if something goes wrong--say, if one finds a skunk in the garden--he writes to the family solicitor, who proceeds to take the proper measures; whereas in America, you telephone the fire department. Each satisfies a characteristic need; in the English, love of order and legalistic procedure; and here in America, what you like is something vivid, and red, and swift. ~ Alfred North Whitehead,
941:Mary Poppins walked down the garden path and opened the gate. Once outside in the Lane, she set off walking very quickly as if she were afraid the afternoon would run away from her if she didn’t keep up with it. At the corner she turned to the right and then to the left, nodded haughtily to the Policeman, who said it was a nice day, and by that time she felt that her Day Out had begun. ~ P L Travers,
942:You cannot unsee what has been seen once the veil is lifted, Reverend Olumide says in church. We cannot return to the garden of Eden. When I meet with him he says I need to confront my fears, that the devil torments us with that which scares us most. So, I cross the line between the blue hallways tiles and the white locker-room floor and navigate my way to locker number thirty-two. ~ Uzodinma Iweala,
943:I find that a real gardener is not a man who cultivates flowers; he is a man who cultivates the soil. He is a creature who digs himself into the earth and leaves the sight of what is on it to us gaping good-for-nothings. He lives buried in the ground. He builds his monument in a heap of compost. If he came into the Garden of Eden, he would sniff excitedly and say: "Good Lord, what humus! ~ Karel apek,
944:Imagine your mind as a garden and thoughts as the seeds you plant. Habitual negative, unhealthy, self-critical thoughts produce the weeds and thistles of depression, discontent, and anxiety in the garden of your mind. Luckily, the opposite is also true. Consistently planting positive, healthy, constructive thoughts will yield a crop of beautiful feelings, such as gratitude, love, and joy. ~ Sue Thoele,
945:Now if the lover could have looked ahead, he would have blessed the watchman at the start, and prayed on his behalf, and he would have seen that tyranny as justice; but since the end was veiled to him, he moaned and made his plaint in the beginning. Yet those who journey in the garden land of knowledge, because they see the end in the beginning, see peace in war and friendliness in anger. ~ Bah u ll h,
946:He took it and without hesitation, fuck him, he went for more. “So, a man gets outta prison, he gets himself a new wife, he brings her home, takes care of business by findin’ a job to provide for her, his first day off, his wife does not go to the garden center to buy plants in an asinine effort to put her stamp on a house. She stays home with her husband while he fucks her brains out. ~ Kristen Ashley,
947:Old Jiko is supercareful with her time. She does everything really really slowly, even when she's just sitting on the veranda, looking out at the dragonflies spinning lazily around the garden pond. She says that she does everything really really slowly in order to spread time out so that she'll have more of it and live longer, and then she laughs so that you know she is telling you a joke. ~ Ruth Ozeki,
948:For to my mind, however beautiful a view may be, it requires the presence of man to make it complete, but perhaps that is because I have lived so much in the wilderness, and therefore know the value of civilisation, though to be sure it drives away the game. The Garden of Eden, no doubt, looked fair before man was, but I always think that it must have been fairer when Eve adorned it. To ~ H Rider Haggard,
949:We got quiet. The garden was combing her hair and putting on earrings. The house was full of dancing creatures, not male and female but both, two lovers in one body. The books downstairs were reciting their poetry to each other, rubbing together, whispering through the leather covers. Wine was flowing through the water pipes. You had caught my leaping heart in your hand like a fish. ~ Francesca Lia Block,
950:I don't know. I only think the Austrians will not stop when they have won a victory. It is in defeat that we become Christian."
"The Austrians are Christians-- except for the Bosnians."
"I don't mean technically Christian. I mean like Our Lord."
He said nothing.
"We are all gentler now because we are beaten. How would our Lord have been f Peter had rescued him in the Garden? ~ Ernest Hemingway,
951:The old tree brooded over me silently, a living thing. I heard a mouse snoring in the garden weeds. The rooftops of Berkeley looked like pitiful living meat sheltering grieving phantoms from the enternality of the heavens which they feared to face. By the time I went to bed I wasn't taken in by no Princess or no desire for no Princess and nobody's disapproval and I felt glad and slept well. ~ Jack Kerouac,
952:I find that a real gardener is not a man who cultivates flowers; he is a man who cultivates the soil. He is a creature who digs himself into the earth and leaves the sight of what is on it to us gaping good-for-nothings. He lives buried in the ground. He builds his monument in a heap of compost. If he came into the Garden of Eden, he would sniff excitedly and say: "Good Lord, what humus!" ~ Karel Capek,
953:My real life—or what memory reports as my real life—was increasingly one of solitude. I had indeed plenty of people to talk to: my parents, my grandfather Lewis, prematurely old and deaf, who lived with us; the maids; and a somewhat bibulous old gardener. I was, I believe, an intolerable chatterbox. But solitude was nearly always at my command, somewhere in the garden or somewhere in the house. ~ C S Lewis,
954:Faith is not simply a private matter, or something we practice once a week at church. Rather, it should have a contagious effect on the broader world. Jesus used these images to illustrate his kingdom: a sprinkle of yeast causing the whole loaf to rise, a pinch of salt preserving a slab of meat, the smallest seed in the garden growing into a great tree in which birds of the air come to nest. ~ Philip Yancey,
955:Because I work at other things, whenever I get a chance to write I feel grateful for it. But I learned that sometimes, I couldn't do anything else and I shouldn't plan to do anything that night or the next day. There were times when I was writing something difficult for days or weeks and when I'd finish, I would get up and go out of my shed into the garden and be sick. I had terrible migraines. ~ Damian Barr,
956:To walk the same route again can mean to think the same thoughts again, as though thoughts and ideas were indeed fixed objects in a landscape one need only know how to travel through. In this way, walking is reading, even when both the walking and reading are imaginary, and the landscape of the memory becomes a text as stable as that to be found in the garden, the labyrinth, or the stations. ~ Rebecca Solnit,
957:Finding out about this . . . having it all come out . . . it would kill my mother.”

I shrugged. “Give it enough time and it’ll kill me too. Cowardice may be our natural state but it’s still a choice. Every day you know about the Garden and don’t call the police or let us go, you’re making that same choice again and again. It is what it is, Desmond. You just don’t get to pretend anymore. ~ Dot Hutchison,
958:For a long time they just stay there like that, as still as the statues in the garden. And when he gives her no sign --- no gestures of welcome, no indication of need--Hadley swallows hard and comes to a decision. But just as she turns to walk away she hears him behind her, the word like the opening of some door, like an ending and a beginning, like a wish. "Wait," he says, and so she does. ~ Jennifer E Smith,
959:Queen of Night is as close to black as a flower gets, though in fact it is a dark and glossy maroonish purple. Its hue is so dark, however, that it appears to draw more light into itself than it reflects, a kind of floral black hole. In the garden, depending on the the angle of the sun, the blossoms of a Queen of Night may read as positive or negative space, as flowers or shadows of a flower. ~ Michael Pollan,
960:Teddy thought of his wife and his sister as two sides of the same shining coin. Nancy was an idealist, Ursula a realist; Nancy an optimist with a lively heart, while Ursula’s spirit was freighted with the grief of history. Ursula was forever cast out of Eden and making the best of it while Nancy, cheerful and undaunted, was sure her search for the gate back into the garden would be successful. ~ Kate Atkinson,
961:Because a thing is going strong now, it need not go strong forever . . . This craze for motion has only set in during the last hundred years. It may be followed by a civilization that won't be a movement, because it will rest on the earth. All the signs are against it now, but I can't help hoping, and very early in the morning in the garden I feel that out house is the future as well as the past. ~ E M Forster,
962:But what is certain is that in five, ten or twenty years, this problem unique to our time, according to him, will no longer exist, it will be replaced by others...Yet this music, the sound of this rain on the windows, the great mournful creaking of the cedar tree in the garden outside, this moment, so tender, so strange in the middle of war, this will never change, not this, this is forever. ~ Ir ne N mirovsky,
963:MARCH, 1846-- I have at last got the little room I have wanted so long, and am very happy about it. It does me good to be alone, and Mother has made it very pretty and neat for me. My work-basket and desk are by the window, and my closet is full of dried herbs that smell very nice. The door that opens into the garden will be very pretty in summer, and I can run off to the woods when I like. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
964:Today

Today I’m flying low and I’m not saying a word. I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep. The world goes on as it must, the bees in the garden rumbling a little, the fish leaping, the gnats getting eaten. And so forth. But I’m taking the day off. Quiet as a feather. I hardly move though really I’m traveling a terrific distance. Stillness. One of the doors into the temple. ~ Mary Oliver,
965:how it had looked like Eden. He pondered what it was like for the Man and Woman to be in such communion with Elohim, their fellow creatures, and the world around them, full of splendor and glory. He wondered what it would be like to be in Elohim’s presence and the presence of his divine council of ten thousands of holy ones surrounding his throne and worshipping in the Garden that was his temple. ~ Brian Godawa,
966:In the immediate vicinity, there might well be stability and peace. In the garden, a breeze may be swaying the branches of the plum tree and dust may slowly be gathering on the bookshelves in the living room. But we are aware that such serenity does not do justice to the chaotic and violent fundamentals of existence and hence, after a time, it has a a habit of growing worrisome in its own way. ~ Alain de Botton,
967:What was she like, this Laure who enjoyed having lunch in the garden, was frightened of red ants, dremt she was making love to her pet which had been transformed into a man, and had a signed Patrick Modiano?

She was an enigma. It was like looking at someone through a fogged-up window. her face was like one encountered in a dream, whose features disolve as soon as you try to recall them. ~ Antoine Laurain,
968:Everyone knows that weeds eat out the life of the garden and of the productive fields. The gardener and the farmer alike each has to keep the weeding process alive... It's like that in the building and developing of character. No one knows our faults and tendencies better than we do ourselves, so that it is up to each one of us to keep the weeds out, and to keep all growth vigorous and fruitful. ~ Robin S Sharma,
969:In all fiction, when a man is faced with alternatives he chooses one at the expense of the others. In the almost unfathomable Ts'ui Pen, he chooses - simultaneously - all of them. He thus creates various futures, various times which start others that will in their turn branch out and bifurcate in other times. That is the cause of the contradictions in the novel." ~ Jorge Luis Borges, The Garden Of Forking Paths,
970:She finds tales everywhere, in grains of sand she picks up from the garden, in puffs of smoke that drift out from the chimneys of the village, in fragments of smooth timber or glass in the jetsam. She will ask them, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?" And they will answer her in voices very like her own, but with new lilts and squeaks and splashes in them that show they are their own. ~ David Almond,
971:I, Lalla, willingly entered through the garden-gate, There, O Joy! I found Siva united with Sakti; There and then I got absorbed drinking at the Lake of Nectar. Immune to harm am I, dead as I am to the world, though still alive. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Ascent of Self: A Reinterpretation of the Mystical Poetry of Lalla-Ded, by B. N. Paramoo

~ Lalla, I, Lalla, willingly entered through the garden-gate
,
972:In June of 1944, when Field Marshal von Rundstedt, the German commander in France, was told that the Allies were landing in Normandy, he knew exactly what to do. He went out into the garden and pruned his roses. Von Rundstedt knew that in war, early reports, regardless of whether the news is good or bad, are usually misleading. Reacting to them with instant analysis merely makes the problem worse. ~ William S Lind,
973:Our blessed Savior chose the Garden for his Oratory, and dying, for the place of his Sepulchre; and we do avouch for many weighty causes, that there are none more fit to bury our dead in than in our Gardens and Groves, where our Beds may be decked with verdant and fragrant flowers, Trees and Perennial Plants, the most natural and instructive Hieroglyphics of our expected Resurrection and Immortality. ~ John Evelyn,
974:You sure you don't want me to come over? We could make a snowman in the garden, or one in front of the hotel for the guests' arrival tomorrow. Or we could build snow forts and have a snowball fight. Surefire way to wear you out and make you sleepy. Then we could have cocoa with marshmallows on top. And I've been dying to have a piece of that seven-layer chocolate cake. I can't quit thinking about it. ~ Terry Spear,
975:Doubt is useful for awhile. We must all pass through the garden of Gesthemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
976:Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
977:Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. ~ George R R Martin,
978:At night, in the garden, it occurs to you that it might have been your heart that left you as you reached the capital. Your heart might not have travelled well, closed up in its cavity, quivering and gnawing at the bars of your ribcage during the commute. It might be tracking north now, along edgelands, past spoil-heaps and stands of pylons, under motorway passes, back to the higher ground. Back to him. ~ Sarah Hall,
979:I see you will have it, Mr. Jettan. I will meet you when and where you will."
Philip patted his sword-hilt.
"I have noticed, Mr. Bancroft, that you habitually don your sword. So I took the precaution of wearing mine. 'When' is now, and 'where' is yonder!" He pointed above the hedge that encircled the garden to the copse beyond. It was a very fine theatrical effect, and he was pleased with it. ~ Georgette Heyer,
980:The garden was the most beautiful place Margherita had ever seen. In spring, it was a sea of delicate blossom. In summer, it was green and fruitful. In autumn, the trees blazed gold and red and orange, as vivid as Margherita's hair. Even in winter, it was beautiful, with bare branches against the old stone walls and green hedges in curves and curlicues about beds of winter-flowering herbs and flowers. ~ Kate Forsyth,
981:Unlike at the Academy or the Lyceum, women, some of them concubines and mistresses, as well as a few slaves, joined the conversation; further, many of the students here had arrived without academic credentials in mathematics or music, de rigueur for entry to the other Athenian schools of higher learning. Everyone in the Garden radiated earnestness and good cheer. The subject under discussion was happiness. ~ Epicurus,
982:Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christmas played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
983:Every night I’d call out my usual, “Honey, I’m home” the way I had for fourteen years. Mike hadn’t been here for almost four of those years, but I greeted him anyway. I supposed it was like having coffee with him in the garden outside the wine tasting room. I couldn’t explain it to anyone without sounding crazy but I knew he was there, watching over me. Talking to him kept him alive and made me less…dead. ~ Lane Hayes,
984:It avoids rather than hurts, it hurts rather than maims, it maims rather than kills—the staff does not destroy.” “I teach you to be warriors in the garden so you will never be gardeners in the war. I give you the strength to fight, but you all must learn the strength of restraint.” Mama turns to me, shoulders pinned back. “You must protect those who can’t defend themselves. That is the way of the staff. ~ Tomi Adeyemi,
985:I went round the side of the house, and stared at the garden in horror. The ivy had almost taken over. There were still flowers in the borders, but weeds rioted everywhere, choking all the blooms. The stream still trickled in spite of vast tangles of waterweed. I followed it to the end of the garden. The little Japanese house was lurid green with moss. I sat on the cold seat and shut my eyes tight. ~ Jacqueline Wilson,
986:As Frost Is Best Conceived
951
As Frost is best conceived
By force of its Result—
Affliction is inferred
By subsequent effect—
If when the sun reveal,
The Garden keep the Gash—
If as the Days resume
The wilted countenance
Cannot correct the crease
Or counteract the stain—
Presumption is Vitality
Was somewhere put in twain.
~ Emily Dickinson,
987:In the stories of the founding of Mecca, the patriarch Abraham was guided on his journey by the Shekinah, who directed him where to build.  Significantly the Shekinah was said to have marked the spot for Abraham by curling up like a serpent.[191]  The serpent imagery here is reminiscent of the Egyptian Goddess Qudshu, the Gnostic Edem as well as the serpent of wisdom or temptation in the Garden of Eden. ~ Sorita d Este,
988:The Garden Of Dreams
MY heart is a garden of dreams
Where you walk when day is done,
Fair as the royal flowers,
Calm as the lingering sun.
Never a drouth comes there,
Nor any frost that mars,
Only the wind of love
Under the early stars,—
The living breath that moves
Whispering to and fro,
Like the voice of God in the dusk
Of the garden long ago.
~ Bliss William Carman,
989:To someone who has lived for many years, the door is obvious. The house is obvious, the garden is obvious, the sky and the sea are obvious, even the moon, suspended in the night sky and shining brightly above the rooftops, is obvious. The world expresses its being, but we are not listening, and since we are no longer immersed in it, experiencing it as a part of ourselves, it is as if it escapes us. ~ Karl Ove Knausg rd,
990:One of the things for which humans will have to stand trial before the heavenly tribunal is their ecological transgressions. Instead of dressing the garden, tilling and keeping it, we have polluted, exploited, and violated the garden. We’ll also have to answer for the fact that fish eggs are more protected than human embryos, and that there are people who worship cattle while others are dying of starvation. ~ R C Sproul,
991:The second error is the assumption that business or the work environment is the only tribal affiliation people have. By sheer proximity, the workplace tribe may seem to dwarf all the others, but anyone who works at home will find they actually belong to four or five major tribes—starting with the family and extending outward to the neighborhood, the garden club, library volunteers, church, and the like. ~ Ricardo Semler,
992:You consider issues, but not deeply enough.
Your spring is frozen. Faith is a flowing.
Don't try to forge cold iron.
Study David, the ironsmith, and dancer, and musician.
Move into the sun. You're wrapped in fantasy
and inner mumbling. When spirit enters, a man begins to wander freely,
escaped and overrunning through the garden plants,
spontaneous and soaking in.

Now a miracle story... ~ Rumi,
993:Even the garden birds that we watch with pleasure at our bird-feeders are in a state of conflict: safety or hunger. When the weather is at its worst, more and more birds throng to the table, because the alternative to facing their fear is starvation. It is easy to sentimentalize nature, to forget that the prevailing forces at work – besides the urge to hold a territory and find a mate – are hunger and fear. ~ Neil Ansell,
994:Every time she heard the click of the shutter, followed by that faint rustle, she remembered when she used to catch grasshoppers in the garden of their house in the mountains when she was a little girl, trapping them between her cupped hands. She thought that it was the same with photographs, only now she seized time and fixed it on celluloid, capturing it halfway through its jump toward the next moment. ~ Paolo Giordano,
995:I knew there was going to be a problem when one of the first priests said there were certain ways that I must be loved and all other ways were wrong. It has been a long dark road since. The garden was a wonderful time. It was not quite the fairy tale it has been shown to be. Men and women still died. Life was a constant struggle. Yet it was beautiful in its innocence. I suppose in the end it was all my fault. ~ Mark Tufo,
996:To be a modern person in 2012, you are often required to have some electronics in your life. And I do. I try to put that phone down, put the computer away, and get out there and hike in the woods; feel it in my feet, feel it in my hands; get out in the garden and feel the soil under my fingers, my fingertips and my fingernails. I try to be involved in nature in a very tactile way. I think that's important. ~ Ed Begley Jr,
997:We could live forever, if we were willing to be stupid the whole time."

"Surely you're not saying that God had to choose between long life and intelligence for human beings!"

"It's there in your own Bible, Carlotta. Two trees — knowledge and life. You eat of the tree of knowledge, and you will surely die. You eat of the tree of life, and you remain a child in the garden forever, undying. ~ Orson Scott Card,
998:In Genesis, the Bible's first book, woman is born from the body of man. The Fall from Eden represents the demise of hunter-gatherer life, the expulsion into agriculture and hard labor. It is blamed on Eve, of course, who bears the stigma of the Fall. 1' Quite an irony, in that domestication is the fear and refusal of nature and woman, while the Garden myth blames the chief victim of its scenario, in reality. ~ John Zerzan,
999:What drew me down there, I wonder, to the edge of the garden? I remember the summer light--the trees, the bushes,the grass luminously green, basted by the bland, benevolent late-afternoon sun. Was it the light? But there was the laughter, also, coming from where a group of people had gathered by the pond. Someone must have been horsing around making everyone else laugh. The light and laughter, then. ~ William Boyd,
1000:The top four priorities would be food, fuel, clothing and shelter. Dig the garden, feed the pig, fetch water from the brook, gather wood from the forest, wash some potatoes, light a fire (no matches), cook lunch, repair the roof, fetch fresh bracken for clean bedding, whittle a needle, spin some thread, sew leather for shoes, wash in the stream, fashion a pot out of clay, catch and cook a chicken for dinner. ~ Matt Ridley,
1001:As became a young sinner, Sam [Mark Twain] had a special interest in Satan. He asked his Sunday school teacher questions about Eve in the garden, wondering "if he had ever heard of another woman who, being approached by a serpent, would not excuse herself and break for the nearest timber." Twain recalled, "He did not answer my question, but rebuked me for inquiring into matters above my age and comprehension. ~ Fred Kaplan,
1002:Lullaby
SLEEP, sleep, my treasure,
The long day's pleasure
Has tired the birds, to their nests they creep;
The garden still is
Alight with lilies,
But all the daisies are fast asleep.
Sleep, sleep, my darling,
Dawn wakes the starling,
The sparrow stirs when he sees day break;
But all the meadow
Is wrapped in shadow,
And you must sleep till the daisies wake!
~ Edith Nesbit,
1003:Our role as gardeners is to choose, plant and tend the best seeds within the garden of our consciousness. Learning to look deeply at our consciousness is our greatest gift and our greatest need, for there lie the seeds of suffering and of love, the very roots of our being, of who we are. Mindfulness...is the guide and the practice by which we learn how to use the seeds of suffering to nourish the seeds of love. ~ Nhat Hanh,
1004:IF you, that have grown old, were the first dead,
Neither catalpa tree nor scented lime
Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread
Where we wrought that shall break the teeth of Time.
Let the new faces play what tricks they will
In the old rooms; night can outbalance day,
Our shadows rove the garden gravel still,
The living seem more shadowy than they.

~ William Butler Yeats, The New Faces
,
1005:Now I was making my way through the garden. There was that strange light which follows a day of persistent rain, when the sun comes out and the sky clears too late to be of any use. The earth makes a sound as of sighs and the last drops fall from the emptied cloudless sky. A small boy, stretching out his hands and looking up at the blue sky, asked his mother how such a thing was possible. Fuck off, she said. ~ Samuel Beckett,
1006:The grand Italian churches are
covered with detail which is visible at the pace
people walk by. The great modern buildings are
blank because there is no time to see from the car.
A thousand years ago when they built the gardens
of Kyoto, the stones were set in the streams askew.
Whoever went quickly would fall in. When we slow,
the garden can choose what we notice. Can change
our heart. ~ Jack Gilbert,
1007:You're walking into the garden little girl with your belly just rumblin' for an apple."
"My belief happen to be other than your own but I've always thought the Garden of Eden story would have been much better if Eve wasn't portrayed as such a mindless character manipulated by suggestion. I mean if she were a little bolder more resourceful and confident she and Adam might've had snake for dinner instead. ~ Linda Robertson,
1008:A woman's work, from the time she gets up to the time she goes to bed, is as hard as a day at war, worse than a man's working day. ... To men, women's work was like the rain-bringing clouds, or the rain itself. The task involved was carried out every day as regularly as sleep. So men were happy - men in the Middle Ages, men at the time of the Revolution, and men in 1986: everything in the garden was lovely. ~ Marguerite Duras,
1009:In the story of the Garden this took place in the cool of the day: that is, at night. And Adam, when he left the Garden where life was to have been eucharistic—an offering of the world in thanksgiving to God—Adam led the whole world, as it were, into darkness. In one of the beautiful pieces of Byzantine hymnology Adam is pictured sitting outside, facing Paradise, weeping. It is the figure of man himself. ~ Alexander Schmemann,
1010:[T]his expressed only a little of what she felt. The rest was that she had never been loved before. She had believed it, but this was different; this was the hot wind of the desert, at the approach of which the others dropped dead, like mere sweet airs of the garden. It wrapped her about; it lifted her off her feet, while the very taste of it, as of something potent, acrid and strange, forced open her set teeth. ~ Henry James,
1011:Do you love this world? Do you cherish your humble and silky life? Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath? Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, and softly, and exclaiming of their dearness, fill your arms with the white and pink flowers, with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, their eagerness to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are nothing, forever? ~ Mary Oliver,
1012:Life is extraordinarily suave and sweet with certain natural, witty, affectionate people who have unusual distinction and are capable of every vice, but who make a display of none in public and about whom no one can affirm they have a single one. There is something supple and secret about them. Besides, their perversity gives spice to their most innocent occupations, such as taking a walk in the garden at night. ~ Marcel Proust,
1013:When the rose is gone and the garden faded you will no longer hear the nightingale's song. The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil. The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing. If love withholds its strengthening care, the lover is left like a bird without care, the lover is left like a bird without wings. How will I be awake and aware if the light of the Beloved is absent? Love wills that this Word be brought forth. ~ Rumi,
1014:Bad Gardens copy, good gardens create, great gardens transcend. What all great gardens have in common are their ability to pull the sensitive viewer out of him or herself and into the garden, so completely that the separate self-sense disappears entirely, and at least for a brief moment one is ushered into a nondual and timeless awareness. A great garden, in other words, is mystical no matter what its actual content. ~ Ken Wilber,
1015:Eau-de-vie- flavored with myrtle," said the old woman. "Try it!" She watched intently as Ellie raised the glass to her lips. "Myrtle from the garden. I steep the berries with honey in the local firewater, but the secret ingredient is the flower, added for the final day. Such a pretty white flower it is, drowned in purple for just one day."
The liqueur tasted of stewed plums. Not unpleasant, but very strong. ~ Deborah Lawrenson,
1016:The wind, one brilliant day, called to my soul with an odor of jasmine. "In return for the odor of my jasmine, I'd like all the odor of your roses." "I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead." "Well then, I'll take the withered petals and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain." the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself: "What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you? ~ Antonio Machado,
1017:Unfortunately, as a society, we do not teach our children that they need to tend carefully the garden of their minds. Without structure, censorship, or discipline, our thoughts run rampant on automatic. Because we have not learned how to more carefully manage what goes on inside our brains, we remain vulnerable to not only what other people think about us, but also to advertising and/or political manipulation. ~ Jill Bolte Taylor,
1018:When Cynthia smiles," said young Bingo, "the skies are blue; the world takes on a roseate hue; birds in the garden trill and sing, and Joy is king of everything, when Cynthia smiles." He coughed, changing gears. "When Cynthia frowns - "
"What the devil are you talking about?"
"I'm reading you my poem. The one I wrote to Cynthia last night. I'll go on, shall I?"
"No!"
"No?"
"No. I haven't had my tea. ~ P G Wodehouse,
1019:Betty hugs me, and says, ‘Oh, Mummy, have you found a house? Is there a swing in the garden? You do look old this morning!’ Reply that I feel at least a hundred years old, and that I have found a house, but there is no swing in the garden. Betty’s face falls, so I rashly promise to see what can be done about a swing. She is overjoyed, and tells me that I do not look nearly so old as a hundred; only about sixty or so. ~ D E Stevenson,
1020:Gabriel,’ said Jerott firmly, ‘is now at Birgu, Malta, engaged in a life-and-death struggle for the Grand Mastership of the Order of St John. He is unlikely to spend a large part of his time arranging esoteric disasters for his adversaries. He is far more likely to arrange to kill them stone dead.’

‘All right. You go and get killed stone dead on that side of the garden, and I’ll stick to this,’ said Lymond. ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
1021:Her name is Lysandra Keates, and she arrived uninvited on my doorstep a few days ago. I do not know the particulars of her situation as of yet, but my impression is that she is in dire straits. She has begged me to match her with a man.” “I am not looking for a mistress!” Andrew snapped, but he couldn’t help a brief, powerful image of the girl in the garden…in his bed, her legs wrapped around him as he drove into her. ~ Jess Michaels,
1022:The Cranes
The western wind has blown but a few days;
Yet the first leaf already flies from the bough.
On the drying paths I walk in my thin shoes;
In the first cold I have donned my quilted coat.
Through shallow ditches the floods are clearing away;
Through sparse bamboo trickles a slanting light.
In the early dusk, down an alley of green moss,
The garden-boy is leading the cranes home.
~ Bai Juyi,
1023:The jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.

It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It has grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quiet and light footfall;

But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heavy casement
And pushed the latches down... ~ W B Yeats,
1024:History

Even Eve, the only soul in all of time
to never have to wait for love,
must have leaned some sleepless nights
alone against the garden wall
and wailed, cold, stupefied, and wild
and wished to trade-in all of Eden
to have but been a child.

In fact, I gather that is why she leapt and fell from grace,
that she might have a story of herself to tell
in some other place. ~ Jennifer Michael Hecht,
1025:Self-sufficiency which first reared its head in the Garden of Eden, is the most fatal sin because it pulls us as if by a magnet that their lack of self-sufficiency is obvious to them every day. They must turn somewhere for strength, and sometimes they go through life relying on their natural gifts. But there's a chance, just a chance, that people who lack such natural advantages may cry out to God in their time of need. ~ Philip Yancey,
1026:Unfortunately, as a society, we do not teach our children that they need to tend carefully the garden of their minds. Without structure, censorship, or discipline, our thoughts run rampant on automatic. Because we have not learned how to more carefully manage what goes on inside our brains, we remain vulnerable to not only what other people think about us, but also to advertising and/or political manipulation. ~ Jill Bolte Taylor,
1027:They say you only really appreciate a garden once you reach a certain age, and I suppose there is a truth in that. It’s probably something to do with the great circle of life. There seems to be something miraculous about seeing the relentless optimism of new growth after the bleakness of winter, a kind of joy in the difference every year, the way nature chooses to show off different parts of the garden to its full advantage. ~ Jojo Moyes,
1028:Forget the garden rake. Remember that time you dived over the desk at that guy in moot court? Had him by the throat in two seconds flat, that's what I heard."
"You heard wrong."
"And they suspended you for how long?" Antonia innocently asked.
"A day. And I apologized. Actually I crawled like a slug and ate dirt," Bree said ruefully. "But that was years ago, and have I pulled a stunt like that again? No, I have not. ~ Mary Stanton,
1029:The pleasure of eating should be an extensive pleasure, not that of the mere gourmet. People who know the garden in which their vegetables have grown and know that the garden is healthy will remember the beauty of the growing plants, perhaps in the dewy first light of morning when gardens are at their best. Such a memory involves itself with the food and is one of the pleasures of eating. (pg. 326, The Pleasures of Eating) ~ Wendell Berry,
1030:Why aren't you on the coast? he said, making it sound like an accusation.

Because I have new mulch for the garden to help us all grow.

He snorted in disbelief. Doubtful. You are a dormant seed.

I'd been prepared to allow him a thorny word or two because he lost his nephew at the Seeking,but my sympathy evaporated at such a stark insult. I told him he had no nuts in his shell and swung up beyond his voice. ~ Kevin Hearne,
1031:Over against all this cloudy vagueness stands the clear scriptural doctrine that God can be known in personal experience. A loving Personality dominates the Bible, walking among the trees of the garden and breathing fragrance over every scene. Always a living Person is present, speaking, pleading, loving, working, and manifesting Himself whenever and wherever His people have the receptivity necessary to receive the manifestation. ~ A W Tozer,
1032:Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightly. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to acertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done. ~ Jane Austen,
1033:I finally knew... why Christ's prayer in the garden could not be granted. He had been seeded and birthed into human flesh. He was one of us. Once He had become mortal, He could not become immortal except by dying. That He prayed the prayer at all showed how human He was. That He knew it could not be granted showed his divinity; that He prayed it anyhow showed His mortality, His mortal love of life that His death made immortal. ~ Wendell Berry,
1034:Dear Diary, Today I tried not to think about Mr. Knightly. I tried not to think about him when I discussed the menu with Cook... I tried not to think about him in the garden where I thrice plucked the petals off a daisy to ascertain his feelings for Harriet. I don't think we should keep daisies in the garden, they really are a drab little flower. And I tried not to think about him when I went to bed, but something had to be done. ~ Jane Austen,
1035:On the porch, green-shuttered, cool,
Asleep is Bertram, that bronze boy,
Who, having wound her around a spool,
Sends her spinning like a toy
Out to the garden, all alone,
To sit and weep on a bench of stone.

Soon the purple dark will bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little Cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose,
And Jane lie down with others soon
Naked to the naked moon. ~ Donald Justice,
1036:I stop at the corner and peer into the underpass. That smell of cold and damp always sends a little shiver down my spine, it’s like turning over a rock to see what’s underneath: moss and worms and earth. It reminds me of playing in the garden as a child, looking for frogs by the pond with Ben. I walk on. The street is clear—no sign of Tom or Anna—and the part of me that can’t resist a bit of drama is actually quite disappointed. ~ Paula Hawkins,
1037:Love is a handful of seeds, marriage the garden, and like your gardens, Paula, marriage requires total commitment, hard work, and a great deal of love and care. Be ruthless with the weeds. Pull them out before they take hold. Bring the same dedication to your marriage that you do to your gardens and everything will be all right. Remember that a marriage has to be constantly replenished too, if you want it to flourish... ~ Barbara Taylor Bradford,
1038:The evening wind made such a disturbance just now, among some tall old elm-trees at the bottom of the garden, that neither my mother nor Miss Betsey could forbear glancing that way. As the elms bent to one another, like giants who were whispering secrets, and after a few seconds of such repose, fell into a violent flurry, tossing their wild arms about, as if their late confidences were really too wicked for their peace of mind. ~ Charles Dickens,
1039:Patience drifted in the garden, her dress draping softly off one shoulder and her hair falling across her back like blood in the shadows. She saw his tall silhouette first as he stood at the screen. She stopped, her bare feet sparking against the gravel path. Henry saw the blue-green lights around her, his brain searching to name them. He settled on fireflies although he smelled brine and seaweed and wanted to say phosphorescence. ~ Ellen Herrick,
1040:This list of names was a record of those that Adam gave the animals in the Garden as an expression of his covenantal dominion, the authority that the namer had over the named. “You have two days,” said Yahweh Elohim. Enoch knew the Accuser had no intent of reading the genealogies and names. But even in the face of this obvious stalling tactic, Yahweh Elohim went out of his way to be fair and impartial, even to his own disadvantage. ~ Brian Godawa,
1041:expression, of mingled anger and disinterest, didn’t change. “Hello,” I said. She scowled. “Who’re you?” She didn’t recognize me. I dismounted Butter, landing carefully on my good left foot. I untied my crutches from the back of the saddle and swung myself forward, over the garden wall. “I’m Ada,” I said. Her expression turned to outrage as she realized who I was. “What the ’ell’s this?” she said. “Just who do you think ~ Kimberly Brubaker Bradley,
1042:The mind is the only level at which any lasting change can occur—it is the soil in which we plant our hopes and fears, habits, and patterns. What we plant in the mind will grow and bear fruit. Just as it would be pointless to complain about a carrot seed failing to produce a tomato, it is equally pointless to look at the garden of your life and complain about what you see growing there. We have to be willing to plant different seeds. ~ Darren Main,
1043:All teachers of Scripture conclude that the essence of prayer is simply the lifting up of the heart to God. But if this is so, it follows that everything else that doesn’t lift up the heart to God is not prayer. Therefore, singing, talking, and whistling without this lifting up of your heart to God are as much like prayer as scarecrows in the garden are like people. The name and appearance might be there, but the essence is missing. ~ Martin Luther,
1044:I stop at the corner and peer into the underpass. That smell of cold and damp always sends a little shiver down my spine, it’s like turning over a rock to see what’s underneath: moss and worms and earth. It reminds me of playing in the garden as a child, looking for frogs by the pond with Ben. I walk on. The street is clear – no sign of Tom or Anna – and the part of me that can’t resist a bit of drama is actually quite disappointed. ~ Paula Hawkins,
1045:Questioning the Chrysanthemums
by River Queen Since none else autumn’s mystery can explain,
I come with murmured questions to your gate:
Who, world-disdainer, shares your hiding-place?
Of all the flowers why do yours bloom so late?
The garden silent lies in frosty dew;
The geese return; the cricket mourns his fate.
Let not speech from your silent world be banned:
Converse with me, since me you understand! ~ Cao Xueqin,
1046:Contents 1 • I Accidentally Vaporize My Maths Teacher 2 • Three Old Ladies Knit the Socks of Death 3 • Grover Unexpectedly Loses His Trousers 4 • My Mother Teaches Me Bullfighting 5 • I Play Pinochle with a Horse 6 • I Become Supreme Lord of the Bathroom 7 • My Dinner Goes Up in Smoke 8 • We Capture a Flag 9 • I Am Offered a Quest 10 • I Ruin a Perfectly Good Bus 11 • We Visit the Garden Gnome Emporium 12 • We Get Advice from a Poodle ~ Rick Riordan,
1047:In those paintings, angels clustered around the living and the dead who sit peaceably on thrones, making signs with their hands. Just outside the garden walls is regular life, there are normal streets with dogs and puddles, and merchants and money changers go about their business, and farmers are working in the fields, but inside those hidden, holy spaces, these solemn people are outside of time. They are beyond hurt, beyond wounding. ~ M T Anderson,
1048:What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dullness of communication, compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent heart-language of the old sundials! It stood as the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost everywhere vanished? If its business-use be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance. ~ Charles Lamb,
1049:Lady of silences Calm and distressed Torn and most whole Rose of memory Rose of forgetfulness Exhausted and life-giving Worried reposeful The single Rose Is now the Garden Where all loves end Terminate torment Of love unsatisfied The greater torment Of love satisfied End of the endless Journey to no end Conclusion of all that Is inconclusible Speech without word and Word of no speech Grace to the Mother For the Garden Where all love ends. ~ T S Eliot,
1050:With the garden I planted for the Reina Sofia, each plant related to different celebrations along the calendar - Christmas with evergreen trees, Valentine's Day with roses, Halloween with pumpkins. All these symbols are so culturally loaded, but they are organic living entities - just like the fish in the tanks. They grow on their own. The symbolic ecosystem is growing without a narrative anymore. It's a physical and mental landscape. ~ Pierre Huyghe,
1051:So it is best to keep an open mind and be agnostic. At first sight that seems an unassailable position, at least in the weak sense of Pascal's wager. But on second thoughts it seems a cop-out, because the same could be said of Father Christmas and tooth fairies. There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there aren't any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to fairies? ~ Richard Dawkins,
1052:But I have to say this in defense of humankind: In no matter what era in history, including the Garden of Eden, everybody just got here. And, except for the Garden of Eden, there were already all these games going on that could make you act crazy, even if you weren't crazy to begin with. Some of the crazymaking games going on today are love and hate, liberalism and conservatism, automobiles and credit cards, golf, and girls' basketball. ~ Kurt Vonnegut,
1053:Just as a gardener cultivates his plot, keeping it free from weeds, and growing the flowers and fruits which he requires, so may a man tend the garden of his mind, weeding out all the wrong, useless, and impure thoughts, and cultivating toward perfection the flowers and fruits of right, useful, and pure thoughts. By pursuing this process, a man sooner or later discovers that he is the master-gardener of his soul, the director of his life. ~ James Allen,
1054:After a week in front of the screen, the opportunity to work with my hands—with all my senses, in fact—is always a welcome change of pace, whether in the kitchen or in the garden. There’s something about such work that seems to alter the experience of time, helps me to reoccupy the present tense. I don’t want you to get the idea it’s made a Buddhist of me, but in the kitchen, maybe a little bit. When stirring the pot, just stir the pot. ~ Michael Pollan,
1055:I finally knew, I told him, why Christ’s prayer in the garden could not be granted. He had been seeded and birthed into human flesh. He was one of us. Once He had become mortal, He could not become immortal except by dying. That He prayed that prayer at all showed how human He was. That He knew it could not be granted showed His divinity; that He prayed it anyhow showed His mortality, His mortal love of life that His death made immortal. ~ Wendell Berry,
1056:Alice dug into her pocket and pulled out her notebook, hurrying to make a note of the sensation and the day and the people in it, chewing on the end of her fountain pen as her gaze tripped over the sunlit house, the willow trees, the shimmering lake, and the yellow roses climbing on the iron gate. It was like the garden from a storybook- it 'was' the garden from a storybook- and Alice loved it. She was never going to leave Loeanneth. Never. ~ Kate Morton,
1057:The garden is incredible. It's really overgrown, but underneath the brambles all kinds of plants have survived. There are paths, garden seats, bird feeders."
"Like Sleeping Beauty, fast asleep until the enchantment is broken."
"That's the thing, though; it hasn't been asleep. The trees kept growing, bearing fruit, even though there's been no one there to appreciate it. You should see the apple tree, it looks to be a hundred years old. ~ Kate Morton,
1058:During the long climb down the winding staircase Cornelius whispered many more words of direction and advice. Caspian’s heart was sinking, but he tried to take it all in. Then came the fresh air in the garden, a fervent handclasp with the Doctor, a run across the lawn, a welcoming whinny from Destrier, and so King Caspian the Tenth left the castle of his fathers. Looking back, he saw fireworks going up to celebrate the birth of the new prince. ~ C S Lewis,
1059:Finding missing mittens is hard work.
It would be easier to grow new ones!
Let’s try planting the other mitten right here in the garden. Next spring when the snow melts, a little mitten tree might sprout.

Miss Seltzer and I would take good care of it all summer long.

In the fall we’d pick the ripe mittens.

Then I’d give mittens on Christmas.

And mittens on birthdays.

And mittens on Valentine’s Day! ~ Steven Kellogg,
1060:When the rose is gone and the garden faded
you will no longer hear the nightingale's song.
The Beloved is all; the lover just a veil.
The Beloved is living; the lover a dead thing.
If love withholds its strengthening care,
the lover is left like a bird without care,
the lover is left like a bird without wings.
How will I be awake and aware
if the light of the Beloved is absent?
Love wills that this Word be brought forth. ~ Rumi,
1061:Me, Polly Garter, under the washing line, giving the breast in the garden to my bonny new baby. Nothing grows in our garden, only washing. And babies. And where's their fathers live, my love? Over the hills and far away. You're looking up at me now. I know what you're thinking, you poor little milky creature. You're thinking, you're no better than you should be, Polly, and that's good enough for me. Oh, isn't life a terrible thing, thank God? ~ Dylan Thomas,
1062:One of the many reasons why gardens are increasingly precious to us in this day and age is that they help us to escape from the tyranny of speed. Our skies are streaked with jets, our roads have turned to race-tracks, and in the cities the crowds rush to and fro as though the devil were at their heels. But as soon as we open the garden gate, Time seems almost to stand still, slowing down to the gentle ticking of the Clock of the Universe. ~ Beverley Nichols,
1063:On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they realised the new wonder; but even they hardly realised that the world had died in the night.  What they were looking at was the first day of a new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the evening but the dawn. ~ G K Chesterton,
1064:Perhaps all the fear of man, the pride of knowing, the seduction of acclaim, the quest for control, the depression in the face of hardship, the envy of the ministry of others, the bitterness against detractors, and the anxiety of failure are all about the same thing. Each of these struggles is about the temptation to make your ministry about you. From that first dark moment in the garden, this has been the struggle—to make it all about us. ~ Paul David Tripp,
1065:Some have objected that if Jesus did not sin, then he was not truly human, for all humans sin. But those making that objection simply fail to realize that human beings are now in an abnormal situation. God did not create us sinful, but holy and righteous. Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden before they sinned were truly human, and we now, though human, do not match the pattern that God intends for us when our full, sinless humanity is restored. ~ Wayne Grudem,
1066:And when our bodies remind us that we are not, when they wrinkle and sag and weaken, we are ashamed of them. We do not hate our bodies for what they are; we hate them for what they are not. We hate them for not being godlike. We hate them for being imperfect. We hate them for being limited. And like the man and woman in the garden, instead of rejecting the pride that tells us we could be like God, we reject our bodies that tell us we cannot. ~ Hannah Anderson,
1067:The light struck upon the trees in the garden, making one leaf transparent and then another. One bird chirped high up; there was a pause; another chirped lower down. The sun sharpended the walls of the house, and rested like the tip of a fan upon a white blind and made a fingerprint of a shadow under the leaf by the bedroom window. The blind stirred slightly, but all within was dim and unsubstantial. The birds sang their blank melody outside. ~ Virginia Woolf,
1068:Prayer is not magic. God is not a celestial bellhop ready at our beck and call to satisfy our every whim. In some cases, our prayers must involve travail of the soul and agony of heart such as Jesus Himself experienced in the Garden of Gethsemane. Sometimes the immature Christian suffers bitter disappointment, not because God failed to keep His promises, but because well-meaning Christians made promises “for” God that God Himself never authorized. ~ R C Sproul,
1069:By morning, Adelaide was beginning to understand why she'd never completely understood how God worked. Given that He had made the bewildering, maddening, incomprehensible species that was man from His own image, it stood to reason that the Creator would be a complicated mass of logic never meant to be understood by the female mind. That, or the fall of man in the Garden of Eden had taken them even further off the path than she'd ever realized ~ Kristi Ann Hunter,
1070:What are all these people, by the way?” “They’re people whose gardens verge on or touch the garden of the house where the murder was committed.” “Sounds like a French exercise,” said Beck. “Where is the dead body of my uncle? In the garden of the cousin of my aunt. What about Number 19 itself?” “A blind woman, a former school teacher, lives there. She works in an institute for the blind and she’s been thoroughly investigated by the local police. ~ Agatha Christie,
1071:Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever? ~ Mary Oliver,
1072:After having been standing by the gate of the garden for a long time, Siddhartha realised that his desire was foolish, which had made him go up to this place, that he could not help his son, that he was not allowed to cling him. Deeply, he felt the love for the run-away in his heart, like a wound, and he felt at the same time that this wound had not been given to him in order to turn the knife in it, that it had to become a blossom and had to shine. ~ Hermann Hesse,
1073:Her heart felt as if it were breaking in her breast, bleeding and bleeding, young and fierce. From grief over the warm and ardent love which she had lost and still secretly mourned; from anguished joy over the pale, luminous love which drew her to the farthest boundaries of life on this earth. Through the great darkness that would come, she saw the gleam of another, gentler sun, and she sensed the fragrance of the herbs in the garden at world's end. ~ Sigrid Undset,
1074:On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they realized the new wonder; but even they hardly realized that the world had died in the night. What they were looking at was the first day of a new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the evening but of the dawn. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
1075:Petunia Temminnick’s coming-out ball was pronounced a resounding success by all in attendance. There had been highly intoxicating punch, a variety of dances, good music, and intermission entertainment. No one knew why the beautiful Miss Pelouse had stripped, rolled about in the garden, and then chucked a cheese pie at the youngest Temminnick girl before being taken away in floods of tears, but it was surely the highlight of a most enjoyable evening. ~ Gail Carriger,
1076:At Livia's indecisive silence, Shaw abandoned the subject, and fastened his gaze on the tousled, heavily planted cottage garden ahead of them. Long banners of honeysuckle trailed over the garden fence, its fragrance making the air thick and sweet. Butterflies danced amid bright splotches of poppies and peonies. Beyond a plot of carrots, lettuce, and radishes, a rose-covered archway led to a tiny glasshouse that was shaded by a parasol-shaped sycamore. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1077:Past the turn I might find a mark of Constance’s foot, because she sometimes came that far to wait for me, but most of Constance’s prints were in the garden and in the house. Today she had come to the end of the garden, and I saw her as soon as I came around the turn; she was standing with the house behind her, in the sunlight, and I ran to meet her. “Merricat,” she said, smiling at me, “look how far I came today.” —We Have Always Lived in the Castle ~ Ruth Franklin,
1078:THE BOY WALKING ALONG the garden path and up to the front door of the villa was fifteen years old, with light brown hair that swept down over his eye. He had a thin, rather pale face, well-defined cheekbones, and a slender neck. He was wearing jeans, a black sports shirt, and sneakers. Overall, he was slim, but he was also athletic and had clearly spent time working out in the gym. His arms and chest were almost too well developed for someone of his age. ~ Anonymous,
1079:The neighborhood doesn’t feel nearly as safe. Not that the Garden was ever a utopia, hell no, but before I only worried about GDs and Crowns. Now I gotta worry about the cops too? Yeah, people get killed around here, and nah, it’s not always by the police, but Jay says this was like having a stranger come in your house, steal one of your kids, and blame you for it because your family was dysfunctional, while the whole world judges you for being upset. ~ Angie Thomas,
1080:We've decided to wake a miss for you because you are nice. We want a booby as roomful as ours."
Everybody had seen the Hobgoblin laugh, but nobody believed he could smile. He was so happy that you could see it all over him -- from his hat to his boots! Without a word he waved his cloak over the grass -- and behold! Once more the garden was filled with a pink light and there on the grass before them lay a twin to the King's Ruby -- the Queen's Ruby. ~ Tove Jansson,
1081:We were enclosed, O eternal Father, within the garden of your breast. You drew us out of your holy mind like a flower petaled with our soul's three powers and into each power you put the whole plant, so that they might bear fruit in your garden, might come back to you with the fruit you gave them. And you would come back to the soul, to fill her with your blessedness. There the soul dwells like the fish in the sea and the sea in the fish. ~ Saint Catherine of Siena,
1082:When my husband had an affair with someone else I watched his eyes glaze over when we ate dinner together and I heard him singing to himself without me, and when he tended the garden it was not for me. He was courteous and polite; he enjoyed being at home, but in the fantasy of his home I was not the one who sat opposite him and laughed at his jokes. He didn't want to change anything; he liked his life. The only thing he wanted to change was me. ~ Jeanette Winterson,
1083:As happened each morning, I heard the wind-up bird winding its spring in a treetop somewhere. I closed the paper, sat up with my back against a post, and looked at the garden. Soon the bird gave its rasping cry once more, a long creaking sort of sound that came from the top of the neighbor’s pine tree. I strained to see through the branches, but there was no sign of the bird, only its cry. As always. And so the world had its spring wound for the day. ~ Haruki Murakami,
1084:Jesus, who comes across in the Gospels as extraordinarily strong, begged in the garden, with drops of sweat like blood running down his face, that he might be spared the terrible cup ahead of him, the betrayal and abandonment by his friends, death on the cross. Because Jesus cried out in anguish, we may too. But our fear is less frequent and infinitely less if we are close to the Creator. Jesus, having cried out, then let his fear go, and moved on. ~ Madeleine L Engle,
1085:I went to the Garden of Love, And saw what I never had seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door; So I turn'd to the Garden of Love, That so many sweet flowers bore. And I saw it was filled with graves, And tomb-stones where flowers should be: And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds, And binding with briars, my joys & desires. ~ William Blake,
1086:So she went into the garden to cut a cabbage leaf to make an apple pie; and at the same time a great she-bear, coming up the street pops its head into the shop. What! no soap? So he died, and she very imprudently married the barber; and there were present the Picninnies, and the Grand Panjandrum himself, with the little round button at top, and they all fell to playing the game of catch as catch can, till the gunpowder ran out at the heels of their boots. ~ Samuel Foote,
1087:The Saviors atonement in the garden and on the cross is intimate as well as infinite. Infinite in that it spans the eternities. Intimate in that the Savior felt each persons pains, sufferings, and sicknesses. Consequently, he knows how to carry our sorrows and relieve our burdens that we might be healed from within, made whole persons, and receive everlasting joy in his kingdom. May our faith in the Father and the Son help each of us to become whole. ~ Merrill J Bateman,
1088:What I still don’t get though,” ventured John. “Is why you did it?”
“Did what?”
“Put that dress on in the first place.”
“I don’t know really,” said Dennis, a puzzled look crossing his face. “I suppose it’s because it was fun.”
“Fun?” said John.
“Well you know when we were younger and we used to run around the garden pretending to be Daleks or Spiderman or whatever?”
“Yeah.”
“It felt like that. Like playing,” said Dennis confidently. ~ David Walliams,
1089:When I was a schoolgirl my safe haven was a place at the uninhabited part of my parents’ house. I used to climb up to the large windowsill that was facing a spreading plum-tree in the garden. Reading books, or penning my own stories, diaries and poems, it was especially fun to rest there during the warmer seasons of the year with an open window, when the tree was all covered with tender, odorous blossom in spring, and with rich purple fruitage in summer. ~ Sahara Sanders,
1090:There was something about the garden that reminded her of Nell's backyard in Brisbane. Not the plants so much as the mood. As long as Cassandra could remember, Nell's yard had been a jumble of cottage plants, herbs and brightly colored annuals. Little concrete paths winding their way through the growth. So different from the other suburban backyards, with their stretches of sunburned grass and the occasional thirsty rosebushes inside white-painted car tires. ~ Kate Morton,
1091:Wisdom is the fruit that ripens when, with crazy courage, we plant ourselves in the garden of radical unknowingness. It is the deep breath that accompanies the willingness to not know, to rest in the mystery, to abide in surprise and allow the sacred to reveal itself in its terrible beauty and startling ordinariness. To be wise is to come undone and pay attention to the dismantling and celebrate what rises from the annihilating depths of love’s fire. ~ Pir Zia Inayat Khan,
1092:He acknowledged our God-given need to matter by telling us to rule over them and subdue them. Furthermore, God could have made the garden of Eden self-maintaining. Instead, He appointed Adam to work it and take care of it. God could have created the animals with names, but He knew Adam could use the challenge and the satisfaction naming them would bring. In the same way Eve received a purpose that granted significance. No one else was a suitable helper to Adam. ~ Beth Moore,
1093:Let me define a garden as the meeting of raw nature and the human imagination in which both seek the fulfillment of their beauty. Every sign indicates that nature wants us and wishes for collaboration with us, just as we long for nature to be fulfilled in us. If our original state was to live in a garden, as Adam and Eve did, then a garden signals our absolute origins as well as our condition of eternity, while life outside the garden is time and temporality. ~ Thomas Moore,
1094:The Christian religion is derogatory to the Creator in all its articles. It puts the Creator in an inferior point of view, and places the Christian devil above him. It is he, according to the absurd story in Genesis, that outwits the Creator in the Garden Eden, and steals from Him His favorite creature, man, and at last obliges Him to beget a son, and put that son to death, to get man back again; and this the priests of the Christian religion call redemption. ~ Thomas Paine,
1095:There is no patriarchy or matriarchy in the garden; the two supervise each other. Adam is given no arbitrary power; Eve is to heed him only insofar as he obeys their Father--and who decides that? She must keep check on him as much as he does on her. It is, if you will, a system of checks and balances in which each party is as distinct and independent in its sphere as are the departments of government under the Constitution--and just as dependent on each other. ~ Hugh Nibley,
1096:It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
1097:Gone, gone again is Summer the lovely.
She that knew not where to hide,
Is gone again like a jeweled fish from the hand, Is lost on every side.
Mute,mute, I make way to the garden, Thither where she last was seen;
The heavy foot of the frost is on the flags there,
Where her light step has been.
Gone, gone again is Summer the lovely,
Gone again on every side,
Lost again like a shining fish from the hand Into the shadowy tide. ~ Edna St Vincent Millay,
1098:My sympathies and my love went out to her, even as my hand had in the garden. I felt that years of the conventionalities of life could not teach me to know her sweet, brave nature as had this one day of strange experiences. Yet there were two thoughts which sealed the words of affection upon my lips. She was weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a disadvantage to obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worst still, she was rich. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,
1099:similarities between the stories: the names of Adapa and Adam, the loss of eternal life, the rejection of a command and the trickster temptation. Yet there were such significant differences: the Shinar pantheon versus the sole Yahweh Elohim; failure to eat rather than eating; no trees, no wife. It was almost as if the Adapa story was an inversion of the Garden of Eden, a replacement narrative intended to displace loyalty from the original story onto a new paradigm. ~ Brian Godawa,
1100:The event itself played over in her mind, and the role she'd taken in the police investigation, the things she'd told them - worse, the thing she hadn't - made the panic so bad sometimes that she could hardly breathe. No matter where she went at Greenacres - inside the house or out in the garden - she felt trapped by what she'd seen and done. The memories where everywhere, they were inescapable; made worse because the event that caused them was utterly inexplicable. ~ Kate Morton,
1101:The great, the universal problem is how to be always on a journey and yet see what you would see if it were only possible for you to stay home: a black cat in a garden, moving though iris blades behind a lilac bush. How to keep sufficiently detached and quiet inside so that when the cat in one spring reaches the top of the garden wall, turns down again, and disappears, you will see and remember it, and not be absorbed in that moment in the dryness of your hands. ~ William Maxwell,
1102:He saw Nicole in the garden. Presently he must encounter her and the prospect gave him a leaden feeling. Before her he must keep up a perfect front, now and tomorrow, next week and next year. All night in Paris he had held her in his arms while she slept light under the luminal; in the early morning he broke in upon her confusion before it could form, with words of tenderness and protection, and she slept again with his face against the warm scent of her hair. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
1103:It was so easy to blame the mother. Life a miserable contradiction, endless desire but limited supplies, your birth just a ticket to your death: why not blame the person who’d stuck you with a life? OK, maybe it was unfair. But your mother could always blame her own mother, who herself could blame the mother, and so on back to the Garden. People had been blaming the mother forever, and most of them, Andreas was pretty sure, had mothers less blameworthy than his. ~ Jonathan Franzen,
1104:The December Rose
Here's a rose that blows for Chloe,
Fair as ever a rose in June was,
Now the garden's silent, snowy,
Where the burning summer noon was.
In your garden's summer glory
One poor corner, shelved and shady,
Told no rosy, radiant story,
Grew no rose to grace its lady.
What shuts sun out shuts out snow too;
From his nook your secret lover
Shows what slighted roses grow to
When the rose you chose is over.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1105:Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
1106:6 sn I will bless you. The blessing of creation is now carried forward to the patriarch. In the garden God blessed Adam and Eve; in that blessing he gave them (1) a fruitful place, (2) endowed them with fertility to multiply, and (3) made them rulers over creation. That was all ruined at the fall. Now God begins to build his covenant people; in Gen 12-22 he promises to give Abram (1) a land flowing with milk and honey, (2) a great nation without number, and (3) kingship. ~ Anonymous,
1107:Dortchen ducked through a gap in the trees, following a winding path to a small grove of old linden trees, their branches hanging with heavy creamy-white flowers. A hedge of briar roses, with delicate pink-white flowers blooming among the thorns, shielded them from the eyes of anyone walking past.
The garden was alive with birdsong. A blackbird looked at her with a cheeky eye, then hopped away to search for worms. The scent of the linden blossoms was intoxicating. ~ Kate Forsyth,
1108:The place is changed now, and many familiar faces are gone, but the greatest change is myself. I was a child then, I had no idea what the world would be like. I wished to trust myself on the waters and the sea. Everything was romantic in my imagination. The woods were peopled by the mysterious good folk. The Lords and Ladies of the last century walked with me along the overgrown paths, and picked the old fashioned flowers among the box and rose hedges of the garden. ~ Beatrix Potter,
1109:If Adam and Eve were not hunter-gatherers, then they were certainly gatherers. But, then, consumer desire, or self-embitterment, or the 'itch,' as Schopenhauer called it, appeared in the shape of the serpent. This capitalistic monster awakens in Adam and Eve the possibility that things could be better. Instantly, they are cast out of the garden and condemned to a life of toil, drudgery, and pain. Wants supplanted needs, and things have been going downhill ever since. ~ Tom Hodgkinson,
1110:I'll make dinner."
That means dried pasta again, I suppose, cooked on Armande's wood-stove. There's a jar of it in the pantry, though I dare not think how old it is. Anouk and Rosette love pasta above almost everything else; with a little dash of oil and some basil from the garden, they will both be happy. There are peaches, too; and brandied cherries and plums from Narcisse, and a flan aux pruneaux from his wife, and some galette and cheese from Luc. ~ Joanne Harris,
1111:You can’t blame God for the evil and misery in the world, Jarena— you got to give the devil his due on that account. Evil and misery goes way back to the Garden of Eden. Man wasn’t content to enjoy what God give him. Don’t you make that mistake, Jarena. You trust God and do like the Bible says—count it as joy when you face hard times. It’s during them hard times when we’s got the chance to draw close to Jesus, ’cause during the good times—” “We forget about God? ~ Judith McCoy Miller,
1112:As he stared at her in hushed wonder, it was as though the world stopped. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, a virginal water nymph, her tender skin flushed and glistening, the long tendrils of her strawberry-blond hair twining around her arms and slender waist, her thin muslin chemise wafting around her elegant hips like the white, delicate flowers of the lily pads she had studied so carefully in the garden. He could barely breathe for sheer worship. ~ Gaelen Foley,
1113:Do you live and work here?" Trinity clenched her fist against his chest, her thoughts spinning. "At the ranch?"

The corner of his mouth quirked and he nodded. "Uh-huh."

Oh lord.

"That's just great." She rested her head against his muscled chest. "That's like leaving Eve in the garden of Eden not far from the apple tree. Irrisistable temptation within walking distance."

Luke chuckled, his chest vibrating beneath her ear. "Irrisistable, huh? ~ Cheyenne McCray,
1114:YOU ARE A FLOWER Every child is born in the garden of humanity as a flower. Each flower differs from every other flower. There are many messages in our society that tell us, even when we’re young people, that there’s something wrong with us and that if we just buy the right product, or look a certain way, or have the right partner, that will fix it. As grown-ups, we can remind young people that they’re already beautiful as they are; they don’t have to be someone else. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
1115:After Nicholas hung up the phone, he watched his mother carry buckets and garden tools across the couch grass toward a bed that would, come spring, be brightly ablaze as tropical coral with colorful arctotis, impatiens, and petunias. Katherine dug with hard chopping strokes, pulling out wandering jew and oxalis, tossing the uprooted weeds into a black pot beside her.
The garden will be beautiful, he thought. But how do the weeds feel about it? Sacrifices must be made. ~ Stephen M Irwin,
1116:In the garden of life,
Grows a sapling of pain,
The deer of songs nibbles at it.
The winds of seperation
Blow through the night,
A few leaves drop.

A few leaves drop,
Mother, they drop,
And sounds stir in the garden.
If a few birds of breath
Should fly away,
The deer of songs is afraid.

But the birds of breath
Will surely fly,
Nothing can hold them back.
Through the night
In every direction
They fly away. ~ Shiv Kumar Batalvi,
1117:So where does the name Adam's apple come from? Most people say that it is from the notion that this bump was caused by the forbidden fruit getting stuck in the throat of Adam in the Garden of Eden. There is a problem with this theory because some Hebrew scholars believe that the forbidden fruit was the pomegranate. The Koran claims that the forbidden fruit was a banana. So take your pick---Adam's apple, Adam's pomegranate, Adam's banana. Eve clearly chewed before swallowing. ~ Mark Leyner,
1118:THE girl goes dancing there
On the leaf-sown, new-mown, smooth
Grass plot of the garden;
Escaped from bitter youth,
Escaped out of her crowd,
Or out of her black cloud.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer.

If strange men come from the house
To lead her away, do not say
That she is happy being crazy;
Lead them gently astray;
Let her finish her dance,
Let her finish her dance.
Ah, dancer, ah, sweet dancer.!

~ William Butler Yeats, Sweet Dancer
,
1119:It is high time that we grew up and left the Garden. We are indeed Eden’s children, yet it is time to place Genesis alongside the geocentric myth in the basket of stories that once, in a world of intellectual naivete, made helpful sense. As we walk through the gates, aware of the dazzling richness of the genuine biological world, there might even be a smile on the Creator’s face — that at long last His creatures have learned enough to understand His world as it truly is. ~ Kenneth R Miller,
1120:The garden keeps me focused on inspiring thoughts, the lighthouse reminds me that the purpose of life is a life of purpose, the sumo wrestler keeps me centered on continuous self-discovery, while the pink wire cable links me to the wonders of willpower. A day doesn’t pass without me thinking about the fable and considering the principles Yogi Raman taught me.” “And exactly what does the shiny gold stopwatch represent?’ “It is a symbol of our most important commodity — time. ~ Robin S Sharma,
1121:Under The Harvest Moon
Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.
~ Carl Sandburg,
1122:I will never forget the experience I had when I was in Japan, a place that never heard of the Fall and the Garden of Eden. One of the Shinto texts says that the processes of nature cannot be evil. Every natural impulse is not to be corrected but to be sublimated, to be beautified. There is a glorious interest in the beauty of nature and cooperation with nature, so that in some of those gardens you don’t know where nature begins and art ends—this was a tremendous experience. ~ Joseph Campbell,
1123:The Japanese garden is a very important tool in Japanese architectural design because, not only is a garden traditionally included in any house design, the garden itself also reflects a deeper set of cultural meanings and traditions. Whereas the English garden seeks to make only an aesthetic impression, the Japanese garden is both aesthetic and reflective. The most basic element of any Japanese garden design comes from the realization that every detail has a significant value. ~ E J W Barber,
1124:Typewriters and computers were not designed with steep mountain slopes in mind. On one occasion last autumn I did carry my typewriter into the garden, and I am still trying to extricate a couple of acorns from under the keys, while the roller seems permanently stained from some fine yellow pollen dust from the deodar trees. But armed with pencils and paper, I can lie on the grass and write for hours. Provided there are a couple of cheese-and-tomato sandwiches within easy reach. ~ Ruskin Bond,
1125:The Tree Of Scarlet Berries
The rain gullies the garden paths
And tinkles on the broad sides of grass blades.
A tree, at the end of my arm, is hazy with mist.
Even so, I can see that it has red berries,
A scarlet fruit,
Filmed over with moisture.
It seems as though the rain,
Dripping from it,
Should be tinged with colour.
I desire the berries,
But, in the mist, I only scratch my hand on the thorns.
Probably, too, they are bitter.
~ Amy Lowell,
1126:The Groke looked at the hat. Then she looked at Thingumy and Bob. Then she looked at the hat again. You could see that she was thinking with all her might. Then suddenly she snatched the hat and, without a word, slithered like ann icy grey shadow into the forest. It was the last time she was seen in the Valley of the Moomins, and the last they saw of the Hobgoblin's Hat, too.
At once the colors became warmer again and the garden was filled with the sounds and scents of summer. ~ Tove Jansson,
1127:By trying to understand everything in terms of memory, the past, and words, we have, as it were, had our noses in the guidebook for most of our lives, and have never looked at the view.

Whitehead’s criticism of traditional education is applicable to our whole way of living:
'We are too exclusively bookish in our scholastic routine.… In the Garden of Eden Adam saw the animals before he named them: in the traditional system, children named the animals before they saw them. ~ Alan W Watts,
1128:He longed for it to be winter. A cold wind would blow, the sea would pound, and he would rise cheerful and fit from a delicious sleep beneath warm blankets. Then would come days in which he would write his great novel. The kettle would boil and hot coffee would froth in his cup. In the garden the citron would flower beneath a brilliant moon, its branches dripping fragrance. The starry sky would sweeten the soft silence and Hemdat would pour the dew of his soul into the sea-blue night. ~ S Y Agnon,
1129:However, our story of the Fall in the Garden sees nature as corrupt; and that myth corrupts the whole world for us. Because nature is thought of as corrupt, every spontaneous act is sinful and must not be yielded to. You get a totally different civilization and a totally different way of living according to whether your myth presents nature as fallen or whether nature is in itself a manifestation of divinity, and the spirit is the revelation of the divinity that is inherent in nature. ~ Anonymous,
1130:And the roses—the roses! Rising out of the grass, tangled round the sun-dial, wreathing the tree trunks and hanging from their branches, climbing up the walls and spreading over them with long garlands falling in cascades—they came alive day by day, hour by hour. Fair fresh leaves, and buds—and buds—tiny at first but swelling and working Magic until they burst and uncurled into cups of scent delicately spilling themselves over their brims and filling the garden air. Colin ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
1131:En Tout Cas
WHEN I am glad I need your eyes
To be the stars of Paradise;
Your lips to be the seal of all
The joy life grants, and dreams recall;
Your hand, to lie my hands between
What time we walk the garden green.
But most in grief I need your face
To lean to mine in the desert place;
Your lips to mock the evil years,
To sweeten me my cup of tears,
Your eyes to shine, in cloud's despite,
Your hands to hold mine through the night.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1132:Since the garden, we live in a world filled with suffering, disease, poverty, racism, natural disasters, war, aging, and death — and it all stems from the wrath and curse of God on the world. The world is out of joint, and we need to be rescued. But the root of our problem is not these “horizontal” relationships, though they are often the most obvious; it is our “vertical” relationship with God. All human problems are ultimately symptoms, and our separation from God is the cause. ~ Timothy J Keller,
1133:But since the Fall in the Garden of Eden, things haven’t been fair. Bad things happen to good people. But if we wait for justice, we are putting our lives under the control of those who hurt us. Better far to take God’s solution of grief and forgiveness and grow through the unfair situation. Remember that God himself didn’t demand fairness and justice for us; rather, he valued his relationship with us so much that he went to the cross for us: “Christ died for the ungodly” (Romans 5:6). ~ Henry Cloud,
1134:I'll be honest about it. It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
1135:I’ll be honest about it. It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
1136:I reminded myself: when a book lies unopened it might contain anything in the world, anything imaginable. It therefore, in that pregnant moment before opening, contains everything. Every possibility, both perfect and putrid. Surely such mysteries are the most enticing things You grant us in this mortal mere -- the fruit in the garden, too, was like this. Unknown, and therefore infinite. Eve and her mate swallowed eternity, every possible thing, and made the world between them. ~ Catherynne M Valente,
1137:To Paula in Late Spring"

Let me imagine that we will come again
when we want to and it will be spring
we will be no older than we ever were
the worn griefs will have eased like the early cloud
through which the morning slowly comes to itself
and the ancient defenses against the dead
will be done with and left to the dead at last
the light will be as it is now in the garden
that we have made here these years together
of our long evenings and astonishment ~ W S Merwin,
1138:You cannot go on 'seeing through' things for ever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too? It is no use trying to 'see through' first principles. If you see through everything, then everything is transparent. But a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To 'see through' all things is the same as not to see. ~ C S Lewis,
1139:Coming into our own humanity often takes enormous effort, commitment and bravery. I believe we should be taught that at an early age. I believe part of the violence of our culture stirs from the myth is kindness is natural. I think kindness would only be natural in a world where no one is hurt, and everyone is hurt. So kindness is work. Kindness is knees in the garden weeding our bites, our apathies, our cold shoulders, our silences, our cruelties, whatever taught us the world 'ugly'. ~ Andrea Gibson,
1140:Rather go out of the way! Flee into concealment! And have your masks and your ruses, that ye may be mistaken for what you are, or somewhat feared! And pray, don't forget the garden, the garden with golden trellis-work! And have people around you who are as a garden—or as music on the waters at eventide, when already the day becomes a memory. Choose the GOOD solitude, the free, wanton, lightsome solitude, which also gives you the right still to remain good in any sense whatsoever! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
1141:The Wind, One Brilliant Day
The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odor of jasmine.
'In return for the odor of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odor of your roses.'
'I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead.'
'Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.'
the wind left. And I wept. And I said to myself:
'What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?'
~ Antonio Machado,
1142:This means that if a person fulfills his or her vocation as a steelmaker, attorney, or homemaker coram Deo, then that person is acting every bit as religiously as a soul-winning evangelist who fulfills his vocation. It means that David was as religious when he obeyed God’s call to be a shepherd as he was when he was anointed with the special grace of kingship. It means that Jesus was every bit as religious when He worked in His father’s carpenter shop as He was in the Garden of Gethsemane. ~ R C Sproul,
1143:Whenever you start to feel insecure—about anything—come to Me. Talk with Me about your fears and concerns; then affirm your trust in Me. Voicing your trust connects you with Me at a deep level. It also pushes back the darkness of deception. The evil one has been deceiving people ever since time began, since the Garden of Eden. Do not listen to his lies. Instead, put your trust in Me, for I am absolute Truth. As you come to know Me—the Truth—better and better, I make you increasingly free. ~ Sarah Young,
1144:that I could go to his private kitchen en suite and pick up a knife to drive through his heart. I could have killed him then and there, but what stopped me was the thought that Avery would inherit the Garden. “Avery was all excitement when I first introduced him to the Garden. He talked about it whenever we were alone. Perhaps a father doesn’t need to know that many details about his son. But I can’t see that Desmond has done anything more than look around.” “Does that disappoint you?” I ~ Dot Hutchison,
1145:They came into being simultaneously in a garden, Eve and Adam, fully grown and naked and enjoying you could say the first Big Bang, and they had no idea how they got there until a snake led them to the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and when they ate its fruit they both simultaneously came up with the idea of a creator-god, a good- and-evil decider, a gardener-god who made the garden, otherwise where did the garden come from, and then planted them in it like rootless plants. And ~ Salman Rushdie,
1146:Whoever you are and wherever you come from, you grew into your present shape and form in the garden of your early childhood. In other words, your orientation to life and the world around you—your psychogenic framework—was already in place before you were old enough to leave the house without parental supervision. Your biases and preferences, where you are stuck and where you excel, how you circumscribe your happiness and where you feel your pain, all of this precedes you into adulthood, ~ A S A Harrison,
1147:Almost there,” roared Deep. “Hold on, Brother. Keep her with us!” “I’m trying!” Lock’s voice sounded close to despair. “But she’s so still. She’s not responding.” “Fucking make her respond!” Deep ordered. “And be ready to run the moment we touch down. We’re taking her stretcher straight to the center of the garden. Directly to Mother L’rin herself.” “Yes, all right.” Lock nodded frantically, still working on her. “Please, lady Kat, if you can just hold on a little bit longer…” There ~ Evangeline Anderson,
1148:...I discovered a small kitten in the garden, which apparently had been abandoned by its mother. I picked it up and noticed that its hind legs were crippled in just the same way as Tsering's were when she died. I took this creature into my house and looked after it until eventually it was able to walk. Like Tsering, she was also female, but very beautiful and even more gentle. She also got along very well with the two dogs, particularly Sangye, against whose furry chest she liked to lie. ~ Dalai Lama XIV,
1149:I never thought in a million years that I'd ever sell out back-to-back shows at The Garden. That's not to say, I never expected my career to take off. Still, it was a "Pinch Me, Wake Me Up" moment. I was like, "Wow! I can't believe this. That I'm actually here, and this is actually happening." And in that moment, when I was about to thank my fans for supporting me, I noticed that they were standing up clapping. It was overwhelming, and became a very emotional moment when I tried to thank them. ~ Kevin Hart,
1150:Unrest
All day upon the garden bright
The suns shines strong,
But in my heart there is no light,
Or any song.
Voices of merry life go by,
Adown the street;
But I am weary of the cry
And drift of feet.
With all dear things that ought to please
The hours are blessed,
And yet my soul is ill at ease,
And cannot rest.
Strange spirit, leave me not too long,
Nor stint to give,
For if my soul have no sweet song,
It cannot live.
~ Archibald Lampman,
1151:The Garden En robe de parade. - Samain Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens, And she is dying piece-meal of a sort of emotional anaemia. And round about there is a rabble Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor. They shall inherit the earth. In her is the end of breeding. Her boredom is exquisite and excessive. She would like some one to speak to her, And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion. ~ Ezra Pound,
1152:Because time is not like space. And when you put something down somewhere, like a protractor or a biscuit, you can have a map in your head to tell you where you have left it, but even if you don't have a map it will still be there because a map is a representation of things that actually exist so you can find the protractor or the biscuits again. And a timetable is a map of time, except that if you don't have a timetable, time isn't there like the landing and the garden and the route to school. ~ Mark Haddon,
1153:In Egypt, I loved the perfume of the lotus. A flower would bloom in the pool at dawn, filling the entire garden with a blue musk so powerful it seemed that even the fish and ducks would swoon. By night, the flower might wither but the perfume lasted. Fainter and fainter, but never quite gone. Even many days later, the lotus remained in the garden. Months would pass and a bee would alight near the spot where the lotus had blossomed, and its essence was released again, momentary but undeniable. ~ Anita Diament,
1154:m. He has waited so long-and we all know what torture waiting can be! His whole life is waiting-waiting for the next walk in the open, a waiting that begins as soon as he is rested from the last one. Even his night consists of waiting; for his sleep is distributed throughout the whole
twenty-four hours of the day, with many a little nap on the grass in the garden, the sun shining down warm on his coat, or behind the curtains of his kennel, to break up and shorten the empty spaces of the day. ~ Thomas Mann,
1155:Do you, good people, believe that Adam and Eve were created in the Garden of Eden and that they were forbidden to eat from the tree of knowledge? I do. The church has always been afraid of that tree. It still is afraid of knowledge. Some of you say religion makes people happy. So does laughing gas. So does whiskey. I believe in the brain of man. I'm not worried about my soul. ~ Clarence Darrow in a debate with religious leaders in Kansas City, as quoted in a eulogy for Darrow by Emanuel Haldeman-Julius (1938),
1156:Professor Goldziher also shows, in his "Mythology Among the Hebrews," [99:5] that the story of the creation was borrowed by the Hebrews from the Babylonians. He also informs us that the notion of the bôrê and yôsêr, "Creator" (the term used in the cosmogony in Genesis) as an integral part of the idea of God, are first brought into use by the prophets of the captivity. "Thus also the story of the Garden of Eden, as a supplement to the history of the Creation, was written down at Babylon. ~ Thomas William Doane,
1157:The Garden Scatters Burnt-Up Beetles...
The garden scatters burnt-up beetles
Like brazen ash, from braziers burst.
I witness, by my lighted candle,
A newly blossomed universe.
And like a not yet known religion
I enter this unheard of night,
In which the shabbily-grey poplar
Has curtained off the lunar light.
The pond is a presented secret.
Oh, whispers of the appletree!
The garden hangs-a pile construction,
And holds the sky in front of me.
~ Boris Pasternak,
1158:The truth is always simple, but the path to it is overgrown with thorns and lined with traps. Our fears and our emotions cloud even the brightest day and the clearest truth. Talk is cheap but actions are bloody. You can't plant the garden until you've overturned the soil. And nothing new can grow until the old dies. Lay your past to rest, so that your future can grow unimpeded by those ghosts. We can't change what we've done, but we can always change what we're going to do."

- Acheron ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
1159:Madame Reynaud pushes parcels of fish and octopus and mussels into Juliette's hands, gives her fresh heavy cream and a handful off eggs that will make up for the things she has to combine them with. Then she urges Juliette out into the garden and tells her to take whatever she likes, plucking dark spinach leaves for her as Juliette takes some chervil and breaks off sorrel. The green and lemon scent of the sorrel fragrances Juliette's palm, helping her to forget the dreadful hospital smells. ~ Hannah Tunnicliffe,
1160:I believe that we, that this planet, hasn't seen its Golden Age. Everybody says its finished ... art's finished, rock and roll is dead, God is dead. Fuck that! This is my chance in the world. I didn't live back there in Mesopotamia, I wasn't there in the Garden of Eden, I wasn't there with Emperor Han, I'm right here right now and I want now to be the Golden Age ...if only each generation would realise that the time for greatness is right now when they're alive ... the time to flower is now. ~ Patti Smith,
1161:You’re too arrogant for your own good,” Galien accused him defensively. “The man is an imperial wizard. What he is capable of is beyond your comprehension. For all we know, he may have been visiting her in the form of a butterfly in the garden or a moth that entered her bedroom window each night. We had to be sure.”

“A butterfly?” Saldur said, genuinely amazed.

“He’s a wizard. Damn you. That’s what they do.”

“I highly doubt—”

“The point is we didn’t know for sure. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
1162:She remembered the story from her childhood, about Adam and Eve in the garden, and the talking snake. Even as a little girl she had said - to the consternation of her family - What kind of idiot was Eve, to believe a snake? But now she understood, for she had heard the voice of the snake and had watched as a wise and powerful man had fallen under its spell. Eat the fruit and you can have the desires of your heart. It's not evil, it's noble and good. You'll be praised for it. And it's delicious. ~ Orson Scott Card,
1163:You thought I was that type: that you could forget me, and that I'd plead and weep and throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare, or that I'd ask the sorcerers for some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift: my precious perfumed handkerchief. Damn you! I will not grant your cursed soul vicarious tears or a single glance. And I swear to you by the garden of the angels, I swear by the miracle-working ikon, and by the fire and smoke of our nights: I will never come back to you. ~ Anna Akhmatova,
1164:Beatrix, are you there?” “Two rows away,” came her sister’s cheerful reply. “Medusa found some worms!” “Lovely.” Harry gave Poppy a bemused glance. “Who . . . or should I say what . . . is Medusa?” “Hedgehog,” she replied. “Medusa’s getting a bit plump, and Beatrix is exercising her.” To Harry’s credit, he remained composed as he remarked, “You know, I pay my staff a fortune to keep those out of the garden.” “Oh, have no fear. Medusa is merely a guest hedgehog. She would never run away from Beatrix. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1165:But it was all about authority. Yahweh established authority as part of the created order. Apollyon was an agent of chaos. If he could destroy the authority structure, he could corrupt all of creation. The curse of the Garden involved tainting the woman with the insatiable desire to usurp her husband’s authority over her. And that was why Apollyon’s ultimate plan was to one day equalize the sexes, eliminate all gender differences, at least in the minds of useful idiots, and thereby destroy marriage, ~ Brian Godawa,
1166:She’d never encountered any stories as intricate or compelling as the stories he gave her, nor anything that made her sigh when she read it. She liked best the stories about people becoming other things. Stories where women became swans or echoes. In the evenings, when Finn disappeared into the mysterious recesses of the laboratory, Cat went out to the garden or down to the river and wondered what it would be like to be a stream of water, a cypress tree, a star burning a million miles away. ~ Cassandra Rose Clarke,
1167:I was conscripted during the war and even made to do coolie labor. The sneakers I now wear when I work in the fields are the ones the Army issued me. That was the first time in my life I had put such things on my feet, but they were surprisingly comfortable, and when I walked around the garden wearing them I felt as if I could understand the light-heartedness of the bird or animal that walks barefoot on the ground. That is the only pleasant memory I have of the war. What a dreary business the war was. ~ Osamu Dazai,
1168:Deep in thought, Alex was startled by the clink of the garden gate opening and closing again. Avigail’s face brightened as she replaced her teacup on its saucer and stood. “Ah, there you are. You look exhausted!” In her sixties, the woman walking up the garden path was tall and olive skinned, hair white as snow. The likeness to the professor is remarkable, Alex thought as he shook her hand. She even moves like him. “Dr. Stern, I’m Alex. I knew your father. I’m so sorry.” It was all he could think to say. ~ Dan Eaton,
1169:I have often thought that if heaven had given me choice of my position and calling, it should have been on a rich spot of earth, well watered, and near a good market for the productions of the garden. No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no culture comparable to that of the garden. Such a variety of subjects, some one always coming to perfection, the failure of one thing repaired by the success of another, and instead of one harvest a continued one through the year. ~ Thomas Jefferson,
1170:The Humming Bird
A sudden whirr of eager sound—
And now a something throbs around
The flowers that watch the fountain. Look!
It touched the rose, the green leaves shook,
I think, and yet so lightly tost
That not a spark of dew was lost.
Tell me, O rose, what thing it is
That now appears, now vanishes?
Surely it took its fire-green hue
From day-breaks that it glittered through;
Quick, for this sparkle of the dawn
Glints through the garden and is gone.
~ Edwin Markham,
1171:He sat docilely, letting her do as she would. The rag turned out to be the remains of his shirt, now entirely ruined, and she wondered if he had another. Maybe he’d have to go naked from the waist up, except for his waistcoat, as he labored about the garden. That would be a distracting sight: his huge arms flexing as he wielded a shovel or his savage hooked knife. She fancied she could charge ladies a shilling to come sit by the theater and sip tea as they watched him work—and wasn’t that a silly idea? ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,
1172:She remembered the story from her childhood, about Adam and Eve in the garden, and the talking snake. Even as a little girl she had said - to the consternation of her family - What kind of idiot was Eve, to believe a snake? But now she understood, for she had heard the voice of the snake and had watched as a wise and powerful man had fallen under its spell.
Eat the fruit and you can have the desires of your heart. It's not evil, it's noble and good. You'll be praised for it.
And it's delicious. ~ Orson Scott Card,
1173:The injunction, 'Show tolerance for the sake of God,' means to not hurt any creature while at the same time aiming toward not being hurt by any creature. This is a natural consequence of purity of heart. A poet has aptly expressed this as follows:

This is the objective of humans and jinns in the garden of the world,
To neither hurt anyone, nor to be hurt by anyone.

From another perspective, it means: Abandon the world of causality and be content with the pleasure of the divine will. ~ Osman Nuri Topba,
1174:The work of the dervish community was to open the heart, to explore the mystery of union, to fiercely search for and try to say truth, and to celebrate the glory and difficulty of being in a human incarnation. To these ends, they used silence and song, poetry, meditation, stories, discourse, and jokes. They fasted and feasted. They walked together and watched the animals. Animal behavior was a kind of scripture they studied. They cooked, and they worked in the garden. They tended orchards and vineyards. ~ Coleman Barks,
1175:Thousands of lights blinked in and out, whooshing and whirling around the plants so that everything seemed wrought of light and glass. It was beautiful. I turned around, taking in the full view of the garden. Moonlight had teased away the shadows and my world had become dream-soft and slicked in glass. For the first time since coming to Akaran, I felt at peace.
“What are you doing here?” thundered a voice behind me.
I nearly jumped. Even without turning, I knew who the voice belonged to:
Amar. ~ Roshani Chokshi,
1176:If writing novels is like planting a forest, then writing short stories is more like planting a garden. The two processes complement each other, creating a complete landscape that I treasure. The green foliage of the trees casts a pleasant shade over the earth, and the wind rustles the leaves, which are sometimes dyed a brilliant gold. Meanwhile, in the garden, buds appear on the flowers, and colorful petals attract bees and butterflies, reminding us of the subtle transition from one season to the next. ~ Haruki Murakami,
1177:I get very close to people when I'm shooting them. We would go and shoot a scene with Lucy, and I would spend the whole time telling her about Rob. Then I would go shoot a scene with Rob and tell him all about Lucy. Eventually they wanted to know each other. These are two people who would never have overlapped in any other way or context. We brought to the garden at Rob's office and just sat and watched what unfolded. I remember weeping behind the camera, because I was so moved by the way they connected. ~ Abigail Disney,
1178:Simon continued, “At Babel, the seventy nations were given as an inheritance to the seventy Sons of God who rebelled. These were the gods of the nations. Messiah has come to reclaim their inheritance as Yahweh’s own. As he binds the spiritual powers, he makes way for the kingdom of heaven to grow like a mustard seed on the earth. It starts the tiniest of seeds, but grows to become the biggest tree in the garden. When sin is bound on earth, it is bound in heaven. This is the Good News of atonement for sins. ~ Brian Godawa,
1179:Spiritually, trees play a unique role in the Jewish and Christian scriptures, from the Garden of Eden to the Cross of Christ. Biologically, in great forest communities, they help sustain life on our planet, giving off oxygen, anchoring soil, keeping stream and rivers clear, and providing habitation for thousands of species. How can religious persons not care about the widespread destruction of these creatures of God? We need to love them as our very selves, as neighbors in earth's community of life. ~ Elizabeth A Johnson,
1180:When I wept at his funeral, it was not because of my own loss. You carry a man like Amos with you, a memory of immortal rose in the garden of the human ego. No, I cried because my children would never know him and I knew that I was not articulate enough in any language to describe the perfect solitude and perfect charity of a man who believed and lived every simple word of the book he sold door to door the length and breadth of the American South. The only word for goodness is goodness, and it is not enough. ~ Pat Conroy,
1181:All the shall stand about the God of glory, the fountain of love, as it were opening their bosoms to be filled with those effusions of love which are poured forth from thence, as the flowers on the earth in a pleasant spring day open their bosoms to the sun to be filled with his warmth and light, and to flourish in beauty and fragrancy by his rays. Every saint is as a flower in the garden of God, and holy love is the fragrancy and sweet odor which they all send forth, with which they fill that paradise. ~ Jonathan Edwards,
1182:Life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare. ~ James Baldwin,
1183:Modern life is, for most of us, a kind of serfdom to mortgage, job and the constant assault to consume. Although we have more time and money than ever before, most of us have little sense of control over our own lives. It is all connected to the apathy that means fewer and fewer people vote. Politicians don’t listen to us anyway. Big business has all the power; religious extremism all the fear. But in the garden or allotment we are king or queen. It is our piece of outdoors that lays a real stake to the planet. ~ Monty Don,
1184:The Drowsy Garden
The drowsy garden scatters insects
Bronze as the ash from braziers blown.
Level with me and with my candle,
Hang flowering worlds, their leaves full-grown.
As into some unheard-of dogma
I move across into this night,
Where a worn poplar age has grizzled
Screens the moon's strip of fallow light,
Where the pond lies, an open secret,
Where apple bloom is surf and sigh,
And where the garden, a lake dwelling,
Holds out in front of it the sky.
~ Boris Pasternak,
1185:Without a word, we turn and walk away from the garden, new friends and the birthplace of the human race. As the darkness surrounds us once more, and Kat takes out her blue, green and yellow crystal, my thoughts turn to the story of Adam and Eve. Whether they were the first man and woman created by God himself, or the leaders of the first human tribe that evolved in the garden, I don’t know, or care, but if they really did get the human race kicked out of Edinnu so long ago, I think they’re a couple of jerks. ~ Jeremy Robinson,
1186:Eleanor, it’s been lovely, so it has,” she said. “I haven’t been beyond the garden for months now—these knees of mine—so it’s a pleasure to see a new face, and such a friendly one at that. You’ve been a great help around the house too—thanks, hen, thanks very much.” I smiled at her. Twice in one day, to be the recipient of thanks and warm regard! I would never have suspected that small deeds could elicit such genuine, generous responses. I felt a little glow inside—not a blaze, more like a small, steady candle. ~ Gail Honeyman,
1187:The garden shimmered with candlelight from dozens of sweetly scented beeswax tapers set around to illuminate the space. In the center stood her painting table, now neatly draped in a crisp, white linen tablecloth and laid with her best china, crystal and silver.
More lighted candles were arranged on the table, a small vase of flowers set in the middle, tender petals of red, pink and ivory adding a pleasing burst of color. More color glowed in the sky, sunset turning the horizon a glorious golden apricot. ~ Tracy Anne Warren,
1188:If a man finds himself haunted by evil desires and unholy images, which will generally be at periodical hours, let him commit to memory passages of Scripture, or passages from the best writers in verse or prose. Let him store his mind with these, as safeguards to repeat when he lies awake in some restless night, or when despairing imaginations, or gloomy, suicidal thoughts, beset him. Let these be to him the sword, turning everywhere to keep the way of the Garden of Life from the intrusion of profaner footsteps. ~ Lewis Carroll,
1189:Jesus Christ was the only one capable of performing the magnificent Atonement because He was the only perfect man and the Only Begotten Son of God the Father. He received His commission for this essential work from His Father before the world was established. His perfect mortal life devoid of sin, the shedding of His blood, His suffering in the garden and upon the cross, His voluntary death, and the Resurrection of His body from the tomb made possible a full Atonement for people of every generation and time. ~ Cecil O Samuelson,
1190:A moment of happiness, you and I sitting on the verandah, apparently two, but one in soul, you and I. We feel the flowing water of life here, you and I, with the garden's beauty and the birds singing. The stars will be watching us, and we will show them what it is to be a thin crescent moon. You and I unselfed, will be together, indifferent to idle speculation, you and I. The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar as we laugh together, you and I. In one form upon this earth, and in another form in a timeless sweet land. ~ Rumi,
1191:By the time she entered the hidden garden, early light was sifting through the autumn-sparse canopy. Eliza took a deep breath. She'd come to the garden because it was the place in which she always felt settled, and today more than ever she needed it to work its magic.
She ran her hand along the little iron seat, beaded with rain, and perched on its damp edge. The apple tree was fruiting, shiny globes of orange and pink. She could pick some for Cook, or perhaps she should tidy the borders, or trim the honeysuckle. ~ Kate Morton,
1192:Everyone in the world needs two, three jobs,” I said, without hesitation. “One job isn’t enough, just as one life isn’t enough. I want to have a dozen of both.” “Bull’s-eye. Doctors should dig ditches. Ditchdiggers ought to run kindergartens one day a week. Philosophers should wash dishes in a greasy spoon two nights out of ten. Mathematicians should blow whistles at high school gyms. Poets should drive trucks for a change of menu and police detectives—” “Should own and operate the Garden of Eden,” I said, quietly. ~ Ray Bradbury,
1193:I took a seat. The garden was bursting with people, again in all their alien ways. At that moment a strange loneliness took hold. Perhaps it was that I had not spoken a single word of English that entire day. Perhaps it was that I had never sat in a public garden before, had not even known it to be something that I’d want to do. And all around me there were people who did this regularly. It occurred to me that I really was in someone else’s country and yet, in some necessary way, I was outside of their country. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,
1194:She went and stood at an open window and looked out upon the deep tangle of the garden below. All the mystery and witchery of the night seemed to have gathered there amid the perfumes and the dusky and torturous outlines of flowers and foliage. She was seeking herself and finding herself in just such sweet, half-darkness which met her moods. But the voices were not soothing that came to her from the darkness and the sky above and the stars. They jeered and sounded mournful notes without promise, devoid even of hope. ~ Kate Chopin,
1195:The sound is gone. There's nothing left but the insomniac throbbing of crickets. Crickets in the garden, the courtyard, the back courtyard. Close, domestic, identifiable. And those out in the country. Between all of them they raise, little by little, a wall that will keep out the thing that lies waiting for the tiniest crack of silence to steal through. The thing that is feared by all those who are sleepless, those who walk through the night, those who are lonely, children. That thing. The voice of the dead. ~ Rosario Castellanos,
1196:The sound is gone. There's nothing left but the insomniac throbbing of crickets. Crickets in the garden, the courtyard, the back courtyard. Close, domestic, identifiable. And those out in the country. Between all of them they raise, little by little, a wall that will keep out the thing that lies waiting for the tiniest crack of silence to steal through. The thing that is feared by all those who are sleepless, those who walk through the night, those who are lonely, children. That thing. The voice of the dead. ~ Rosario Castellanos,
1197:There are actually more than four dimensions in this world where you live. In addition to the three dimensions of space and the one of time, there is the dimension of openness to My Presence. This dimension transcends the others, giving you glimpses of heaven while you still reside on earth. This was part of My original design for mankind. Adam and Eve used to walk with Me in the garden, before their expulsion from Eden. I want you to walk with Me in the garden of your heart, where I have taken up permanent residence. ~ Sarah Young,
1198:And all of this leaves me wondering if this dream of mine-that out there, somewhere, hiding, there exists a guy who is cultured and calm, and smiley and faithful, who want´s to escape the rat-race with me and, apparently like the French, wear wellies and make cheese...Well, I wonder if it can possibly exist. I don´t want much...just someone who would flat on his stomach next to me in the garden watching ants carrying crumbs through the jungle of blades of grass. I wonder if that can ever exist, anywhere, for anyone. ~ Nick Alexander,
1199:Cinder’s gaze dipped down and her eyes widened. Kai followed the look. Her foot was on the table. The child-size foot that had fallen off on the garden steps, its plating dented and the joints packed with dirt. He’d taken it out of his office when the security team had done the sweep for Levana’s spy equipment. His ears grew hot, and he felt as if he’d just been caught hoarding something strange and overtly intimate. Something that didn’t belong to him. “You, uh…” He gestured halfheartedly. “You dropped that.” Cinder ~ Marissa Meyer,
1200:I saw that the garden had obeyed the jungle law, even as the woods had done. The rhododendrons stood fifty feet high, twisted and entwined with bracken, and they had entered into alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard thing that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin. A lilac had mated with a copper beech, and to bind them yet more closely to one another the malevolent ivy, always an enemy to grace, had thrown her tendrils about the pair and made them prisoners. ~ Daphne du Maurier,
1201:Mr Earbrass was virtually asleep when several lines of verse passed through his mind and left it hopelessly awake. Here was the perfect epigraph for TUH:

A horrid ?monster has been [something] delay'd
By your/their indiff'rence in the dank brown shade
Below the garden...

His mind's eye sees them quoted on the bottom third of a right-hand page in a (possibly) olive-bound book he read at least five years ago. When he does find them, it will be a great nuisance if no clue is given to their authorship. ~ Edward Gorey,
1202:I go all the way down to First Avenue . . . I realize it's Friday Night all over America, in New York it's just ten o'clock and the fight's started in the Garden and longshoremen in North River bars are all watching the fight and drinking 20 beers apiece, and Sams are sitting in the front row . . . while I spent all summer pacing and praying in mountaintops, of rock and snow, of lost birds and bears, these people've been sucking on cigarettes and drinks and pacing and praying in their souls, too, in their own way . . . ~ Jack Kerouac,
1203:The child I had been came and made his motions, out and about and around, down to the store, down to the garden, down to the barn, up to the house, up to the henhouse, across the river in Uncle Othy's johnboat, up the river in the buggy, over to the Thripples, up to Port William on Sunday morning, down to the river to see the steamboats land and unload and load, up into the woods--weaving over the ground a web of ways, as present and as passing as the spiders' webs in the grass that catch the dew early in the morning. ~ Wendell Berry,
1204:When they [the Church] have opened a gap in the hedge or wall of separation between the garden of the church and the wilderness of the world, God hath ever broke down the wall itself, removed the Candlestick, etc., and made His Garden a wilderness as it is this day. And that therefore if He will ever please to restore His garden and Paradise again, it must of necessity be walled in peculiarly unto Himself from the world, and all that be saved out of the world are to be transplanted out of the wilderness of the World. ~ Roger Williams,
1205:Mama used to tell us a story about a cicada sitting high in a tree. It chirps and drinks in dew, oblivious to the praying mantis behind it. The mantis arches up its front leg to stab the cicada, but it doesn't know an oriole perches behind it. The bird stretches out its neck to snap up the mantis for a midday meal, but its unaware of the boy who's come into the garden with a net. Three creatures—the cicada, the mantis and the oriole—all coveted gains without being aware of the greater and inescapable danger that was coming. ~ Lisa See,
1206:I moved silently across the garden, silvered with moonlight, my feet barely touching the ground. I brushed past fern and tree, following the lights across the stream, toward the cottage in the clearing where I watched a little girl surrounded by light and laughter as the fairies threaded flowers through her hair. I stood out of sight, peering through the tangled blackberry bushes, but the girl saw me, rushing forward, her hand outstretched, a white flower clasped between her fingers. "For Mammy," she said. "For my Mammy. ~ Hazel Gaynor,
1207:Life was full for me. There were so many things to find out and a lot I had to prove to myself. The days were quick and challenging and they pressed on me with their very newness. But it all stopped here in the garden. Everything seemed to have stopped here a long time ago. I looked back before going through the door into the yard and it was like suddenly coming across a picture in an old book; the empty, wild garden and the tall, silent house beyond. I could never quite believe it was there and that I was a part of it. ~ James Herriot,
1208:To crush out fanaticism and revere the infinite, such is the law. Let us not confine ourselves to falling prostrate beneath the tree of creation and contemplating its vast ramifications full of stars. We have a duty to perform, to cultivate the human soul, to defend mystery against miracle, to adore the incomprehensible and to reject the absurd; to admit nothing that is inexplicable excepting what is necessary, to purify faith and obliterate superstition from the face of religion, to remove the vermin from the garden of God. ~ Victor Hugo,
1209:In the garden there was nothing which was not quite like themselves - nothing which did not understand the wonderfulness of what was happening to them - the immense, tender, terrible, heart-breaking beauty and solemnity of Eggs. If there had been one person in that garden who had not known through all his or her innermost being that if an Egg were taken away or hurt the whole world would whirl round and crash through space and come to an end... there could have been no happiness even in that golden springtime air. ~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,
1210:The Soil Is In Ferment, O Friend
The soil is in ferment, O friend
Behold the diversity.
The soil is the horse, so is the rider
The soil chases the soil, and we hear the clanging of soil
The soil kills the soil, with weapons of the soil.
That soil with more on it, is arrogance
The soil is the garden so is its beauty
The soil admires the soil in all its wondrous forms
After the circle of life is done it returns to the soil
Answer the riddle O Bulleh, and take this burden off my head.'
~ Bulleh Shah,
1211:Already he felt her absence from these skies: on the beach he could only remember the sun-torn flesh of her shoulder; at Tarmes he crushed out her footprints as he crossed the garden; and now the orchestra launching into the Nice Carnival Song, an echo of last year's vanished gaieties, started the little dance that went on all about her. In a hundred hours she had come to possess all the world's dark magic; the blinding belladonna, the caffein converting physical into nervous energy, the mandragora that imposes harmony. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
1212:Already he felt her absence from these skies: on the beach he could only remember the sun-torn flesh of her shoulder; at Tarmes he crushed out her footprints as he crossed the garden; and now the orchestra launching into the Nice Carnival Song, an echo of last year’s vanished gaieties, started the little dance that went on all about her. In a hundred hours she had come to possess all the world’s dark magic; the blinding belladonna, the caffein converting physical into nervous energy, the mandragora that imposes harmony. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,
1213:The transplanted bias they now had organically strapped to their backs set them up to be little copycats of the archetypical eisegete they had so carelessly heeded in the garden. (A textbook example of “What you win them with is what you win them to.”)68 They spent the rest of their lives (and remember, they lived a long, long time) eisegeting the world. And they passed this interpretation virus on to each of their children. And to their children’s children. We all eisegete before we exegete.69 Always. It is in our blood. ~ Michael Matthews,
1214:According to the legend an evil old doctor, who called himself God and us dogs, created the first boy in his adolescent image. The boy peopled the garden with male phantoms that rose from his ejaculations. This angered God, who was getting on in years. He decided it endangered his position as CREATOR. So he crept upon the boy and anaesthetized him and made Eve from his rib. Henceforth all creation of beings would process through female channels. But some of Adam's phantoms refused to let God near them under any pretext. ~ William S Burroughs,
1215:Fifty-thousand were gathered (March,27th,1933) in and around Madison Square Garden, supportive rallies were at that moment waiting in Chicago, Washington, San Francisco, Houston, and about seven other American cities. At each supportive rally, thousands huddled around loudspeakers waiting for the Garden event, which would be broadcast live via radio to 200 additional cities across the country. At least 1 million Jews were participating nationwide. Perhaps another million Americans of non-Jewish descent heritage stood with them. ~ Edwin Black,
1216:Books were seen as a waste of time. What was the point, unless you were reading for information? To lose oneself in a book was to be slightly wacky, a little greedy and ultimately slothful. There was no value. You couldn't make money from reading a book. A book did not clean bathrooms and waxed floors. It did not put the garden in. You couldn't have a conversation while reading. It was arrogant and alienated others. In short, those who read were wasteful and haughty and incapable of living in the real world. They were dreamers. ~ David Bergen,
1217:She remembered asking Grandma Howard once the best time to pray. Her grandmother had said, "There's no right or wrong time. Anytime can be the best time. Or all the time. Me, I'm partial to walking prayers."
"Walking prayers?" That had been a puzzle to Fran.
"Those a people can say while she's busy doing what has to be done. Like when I'm walking to the barn or the garden. Grabbing minutes with the Lord. His children don't have to set up appointments for him to pay attention. He's always ready to bend down his ear to us. ~ Ann H Gabhart,
1218:The family took all the seeds from the garden and then they buried Nokomis there, deeply, wrapped in her blanket with gifts and tobacco for the spirit world. They buried her simply. There was no stone, no grave house, nothing to mark where she lay except the exuberant and drying growth of her garden.
Nokomis had said:
I do not need a marker of my passage, for my creator knows where I am. I do not want anyone to cry. I lived a good life, my hair turned to snow, I saw my great grandchildren, I grew my garden. That is all. ~ Louise Erdrich,
1219:That night, I fell into a deep, travel-weary sleep, lulled by the familiar sound of the waterfall beyond the window. I dreamed of the beck fairies, a blur of lavender and rose-pink and buttercup-yellow light, flitting across the glittering stream, beckoning me to follow them toward the woodland cottage. There, the little girl with flame-red hair picked daisies in the garden, threading them together to make a garland for her hair. She picked a posy of wildflowers- harebell, bindweed, campion, and bladderwort- and gave them to me. ~ Hazel Gaynor,
1220:In Japanese language, kata (though written as 方) is a frequently-used suffix meaning way of doing, with emphasis on the form and order of the process. Other meanings are training method and formal exercise. The goal of a painter's practicing, for example, is to merge his consciousness with his brush; the potter's with his clay; the garden designer's with the materials of the garden. Once such mastery is achieved, the theory goes, the doing of a thing perfectly is as easy as thinking it
   ~ Boye De Mente, Japan's Secret Weapon - The Kata Factor,
1221:consumer societies are stealing children away from their kith, their family of nature, in a steady alienation. This is not about some luxury, a hobby, a bit of playtime in the garden. This is about the longest, deepest necessity of the human spirit to know itself in nature, and about the homesickness children feel, whose genesis is so obvious but so little examined. Writer on Native American spirituality Linda Hogan describes the term susto as a sickness of soul caused by disconnection from nature and cured by 'the great without. ~ Jay Griffiths,
1222:From the Garden

Come, my beloved,
consider the lilies.
We are of little faith.
We talk too much.
Put your mouthful of words away
and come with me to watch
the lilies open in such a field,
growing there like yachts,
slowly steering their petals
without nurses or clocks.
Let us consider the view:
a house where white clouds
decorate the muddy halls.
Oh, put away your good words
and your bad words. Spit out
your words like stones!
Come here! Come here!
Come eat my pleasant fruits. ~ Anne Sexton,
1223:Here comes the best part,” I say, realizing that I’ve spoken aloud the words I always tease Haddie for when she announces them at the bridge of the song. The lyrics come and I sing along as the words wash over me, moving me as they always do, bringing goose bumps to my flesh. “There you are, sitting in the garden, clutching my coffee, calling me sugar. You called me sugar.”

“I don’t get it,” Colton says, “Why is that the best part?”

“Because it’s the moment she realizes that he loves her,” I muse, a soft smile on my face. ~ K Bromberg,
1224:Anytime that is ‘betwixt and between’ or transitional is the faeries’ favorite time. They inhabit transitional spaces: the bottom of the garden, existing in a space between manmade cultivation and wilderness. Look for them in the space between nurture and nature, they are to be found at all boarders and boundaries, or on the edges of water where it is neither land nor lake, neither path nor pond. They come when we are half-asleep. They come at moments when we least expect them; when our rational mind balances with the fluid irrational. ~ Brian Froud,
1225:A war on Eden.” The words hit Methuselah and Edna hard. And sank deep. They knew the reason without Yahipan needing to finish. “We are going to storm the Garden, destroy the Cherubim, and capture the Tree of Life,” said Yahipan. The consequences of this plan horrified Methuselah. A malevolent race of giants with the power to live forever would reach heights of evil he could not even imagine. They would be invincible in their might and omnipotent in their rule. “How?” asked Methuselah. “The guardians…” he sought to finish his question. ~ Brian Godawa,
1226:Desire
My desire
is always the same; wherever Life
deposits me:
I want to stick my toe
& soon my whole body
into the water.
I want to shake out a fat broom
& sweep dried leaves
bruised blossoms
dead insects
& dust.
I want to grow
something.
It seems impossible that desire
can sometimes transform into devotion;
but this has happened.
And that is how I've survived:
how the hole
I carefully tended
in the garden of my heart
grew a heart
to fill it.
~ Alice Walker,
1227:In the sort of screen dappled with different states of mind which my consciousness would simultaneously unfold while I read, and which ranged from the aspirations hidden deepest within me to the completely exterior vision of the horizon which I had, at the bottom of the garden, before my eyes, what was first in me, innermost, the constantly moving handle that controlled the rest, was my belief in the philosophical richness and beauty of the book I was reading, and my desire to appropriate them for myself, whatever that book might be. ~ Marcel Proust,
1228:Such was the problem before our first parents: to remain forever at selfish ease in the Garden of Eden, or to face unselfishly tribulation and death, in bringing to pass the purposes of the Lord for a host of waiting spirit children. They chose the latter. This they did with open eyes and minds as to consequences. The memory of their former estates may have been dimmed, but the gospel had been taught them during their sojourn in the Garden of Eden. They could not have been left in complete ignorance of the purpose of their creation. ~ John A Widtsoe,
1229:I saw everything crumble around me, every single daydream of wandering through the grammar school cloisters citing poetry, of my parents wiping tears away as I went up on a platform to receive yet another prize for Debating Skills or Most Graceful Netball Player, of sitting in the garden of our new bungalow being applauded by my Aunties and Uncles as the first family member to win a university scholarship and meet a future husband on the same day - all that potential, all that hope, all gone because I made friends once with Anita Rutter. ~ Meera Syal,
1230:You can’t,” says Peeta. He holds out his hand into seemingly empty space. There’s a sharp zap and he jerks it back. “Some kind of electric field throws you back on the roof.” “Always worried about our safety,” I say. Even though Cinna has shown Peeta the roof, I wonder if we’re supposed to be up here now, so late and alone. I’ve never seen tributes on the Training Center roof before. But that doesn’t mean we’re not being taped. “Do you think they’re watching us now?” “Maybe,” he admits. “Come see the garden.” On the other side of the ~ Suzanne Collins,
1231:If a man finds himself haunted by evil desires and unholy images, which will generally be at periodical hours, let him commit to memory passages of Scripture, or passages from the best writers in verse or prose. Let him store his mind with these, as safeguards to repeat when he lies awake in some restless night, or when despairing imaginations, or gloomy, suicidal thoughts, beset him. Let these be to him the sword, turning everywhere to keep the way of the Garden of Life from the intrusion of profaner footsteps. ~ Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno, [T6],
1232:The Agony in the Garden. 32   * Then they came to a place named Gethsemane,i and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.”j 33 He took with him Peter, James, and John, and began to be troubled and distressed. 34 Then he said to them, “My soul is sorrowful even to death. Remain here and keep watch.” 35 He advanced a little and fell to the ground and prayed that if it were possible the hour might pass by him; 36 he said, “Abba, Father,* all things are possible to you. Take this cup away from me, but not what I will but what you will. ~ Anonymous,
1233:Why?” “Because all humanity has turned its back on the Creator. For although they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him. And they worshipped and served the creation rather than the Creator who is blessed forever. When our forebear Adam disobeyed the Creator, he and his beloved were exiled from the Garden and from the Tree of Life, that would have been the source of continued renewal to live forever. As Adam’s descendants, we are exiled from our Creator. The immortality you seek, lies in him and in his Chosen Seed. ~ Brian Godawa,
1234:A man's minor actions and arrangements ought to be free, flexible, creative; the things that should be unchangeable are his principles, his ideals. But with us the reverse is true; our views change constantly; but our lunch does not change. Now, I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. Let them argue from the same first principles, but let them do it in a bed, or a boat, or a balloon. ~ G K Chesterton,
1235:At teenage parties he was always wandering into the garden, sitting on a bench in the dark . . . staring up at the constellations and pondering all those big questions about the existence of God and the nature of evil and the mystery of death, questions which seemed more important than anything else in the would until a few years passed and some real questions had been dumped into your lap, like how to earn a living, and why people fell in and out of love, and how long you could carry on smoking and then give up without getting lung cancer. ~ Mark Haddon,
1236:Oh, of course I'd be BREATHING all the time I was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn't be living. You breathe all the time you're asleep, but you aren't living. I mean living—doing the things you want to do: playing outdoors, reading (to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all about the houses and the people and everything everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets I came through yesterday. That's what I call living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn't living! ~ Eleanor H Porter,
1237:I went to the Garden of Love,
And saw what I never had seen:
A Chapel was built in the midst,
Where I used to play on the green.

And the gates of this Chapel were shut,
And 'Thou shalt not' writ over the door;
So I turn'd to the Garden of Love,
That so many sweet flowers bore.

And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be:
And Priests in black gowns, were walking their rounds,
And binding with briars, my joys & desires.

- The Garden of Love ~ William Blake,
1238:I thought about the garden tended by a monk living in mindfulness. His flowers are always fresh and green, nourished by the peace and joy which flow from his mindfulness. One of the ancients said, When a great Master is born, the water in the rivers turns clearer and the plants grow greener. We ought to listen to music or sit and practice breathing at the beginning of every meeting or discussion. *The Vietnamese Buddhist Peace Delegation has carried on a program of raising financial support for families within Vietnam who took in orphans. ~ Thich Nhat Hanh,
1239:Failure no longer will be my payment for struggle. Just as nature made no provision for my body to tolerate pain neither has it made any provision for my life to suffer failure. Failure, like pain, is alien to my life. In the past I accepted it as I accepted pain. Now I reject it and I am prepared for wisdom and principles which will guide me out of the shadows into the sunlight of wealth, position, and happiness far beyond my most extravagant dreams until even the golden apples in the Garden of Hesperides will seem no more than my just reward. ~ Og Mandino,
1240:Hostel Luna (one block east and one block north of the cathedral, tel. 505/8441-8466, www.cafeluzyluna.com) is run by British expat Jane Boyd, offering dorm beds for $10 and private rooms for $20. Breakfast is served at Cafe Luz across the street where you can hang in the garden hammocks. Jane is a valuable source of knowledge on activities in the area and can help arrange anything from a trip to Miraflor, a cigar factory tour, or a walking mural tour with a local guide. ~ Randall Wood,
1241:Your right is to work, and not to expect the fruit. The slave-owner tells the slave: ‘Mind your work, but beware lest you pluck a fruit from the garden. Yours is to take what I give.’ God has put us under restriction in the same manner. He tells us that we may work if we wish, but that the reward of work is entirely for Him to give. Our duty is to pray to Him, and the best way in which we can do this is to work with the pick-axe, to remove scum from the river and to sweep and clean our yards. This, certainly, is a difficult lesson to learn. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,
1242:If there ever were one moment where everything worked for us, where we lived in harmony and at ease with our natures, then we would still be there. There is no garden to return to, no idyllic perfect childhood, no enwombed state. The Garden of Eden was boring, childhood is a nightmare we should all be grateful to be done with, and your mother smoked while she was pregnant and poisoned you in the womb with artificial sugar substitutes. The best thing any of us can do is just to keep fucking up in a forward motion, and see what comes out of it. ~ Jessa Crispin,
1243:A man's minor actions and arrangements ought to be free, flexible, creative; the things that should be unchangeable are his principles, his ideals. But with us the reverse is true; our views change constantly; but our lunch does not change. Now, I should like men to have strong and rooted conceptions, but as for their lunch, let them have it sometimes in the garden, sometimes in bed, sometimes on the roof, sometimes in the top of a tree. Let them argue from the same first principles, but let them do it in a bed, or a boat, or a balloon. ~ Gilbert K Chesterton,
1244:I decided right after our marriage that I would begin my transformation in the garden. Because a garden is the heart of a house, where love is the seed and the dark earth like a mother who nurtures her saplings until they bloom, and then waits for them with furrowed arms to return. It is the story told again and again from my garden: from dust we begin, and to dust we will return again. Perhaps that is why the garden is my favorite place of all in my new house—perhaps because when I sink my hands in the moist earth, I feel that I’m already home. ~ Karen White,
1245:Jesus’ mission wasn’t to improve the old; his mission, and the mission he gave his disciples, was to embody the new—an entirely new way of doing life. It is life lived within the reign of God; life centered on God as the sole source of one’s security, worth, and significance; life lived free from self-protective fear; and life manifested in Calvary-like service to others. His promise is that as his disciples manifest the unique beauty and power of this life, it will slowly and inconspicuously—like a mustard seed—grow and take over the garden. ~ Gregory A Boyd,
1246:While they were dancing, the buoyancy that the champagne had given her left her all at once, and she slumped and felt suddenly tired and miserable about all the things that Denys should have said and done and hadn't. At the end of the dance there was one awful moment when she was bored. She didn't want to go and be kissed in the garden, she didn't want to drink any more, and Denys was in no mood for conversation; what was there to do? She was bored. It was a terrible, treacherous thought to feel like that when you were with someone you loved. ~ Monica Dickens,
1247:A lost sheep is, for all practical purposes a dead sheep. It is the admission that we are dead in our sins---that we have no power of ourselves either to save ourselves or to convince anyone else that we are worth saving. It is the recognition that our whole life is out of our hands and that if we ever live again, our life will be entirely the gift of some gracious shepherd. God finds us the desert of death (not in the garden of improvement) and in the power of Jesus' resurrection, he puts us on his shoulders rejoicing and brings us home. ~ Robert Farrar Capon,
1248:Following the Fall in the Garden of Eden, Elohim had promised he would one day provide a seed of royal kingship that would restore creation to its intended glory and humanity to its intended identity as the family of Elohim, true Sons and Daughters of God. The Watcher gods sought to corrupt that seedline by mating with humanity and violating the heavenly earthly divide. The result of their crossbreeding were the Nephilim, unholy hybrids of angel and human, giants who became known as the Seed of the Serpent at war with the Seed of the Woman, Eve. ~ Brian Godawa,
1249:If anything is clear from reading Scripture, this fact is apparent: God speaks to His people. At the beginning of the Bible, we find Him speaking to Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. He conversed with Abraham and the other patriarchs. He spoke to the judges, kings, and prophets. God was in Christ Jesus speaking to the disciples. God communicated with the early church, and as the biblical record comes to a close, God spoke to John on the Isle of Patmos. God speaks to His people, and you can anticipate that He will communicate with you, too. ~ Henry T Blackaby,
1250:I’m open to suggestions, if you happen to have any.” “You could sing,” Ruby said without missing a beat. “Or if you don’t like singing—” “How did you guess?” “You could listen to music. Or audiobooks—I used to listen to them before I learned to read. You could also tell jokes and talk on the phone if you put it on speakerphone. You could tell me all your favorite flowers, and I would plant them in the garden so you can have a bouquet whenever you want one.” She shrugged matter-of-factly. “I can think up more stuff and make you a list if you want. ~ Susan Wiggs,
1251:Tom didn’t feel the way I did. It wasn’t his failure, for starters, and in any case, he didn’t need a child like I did. He wanted to be a dad, he really did—I’m sure he daydreamed about kicking a football around in the garden with his son, or carrying his daughter on his shoulders in the park. But he thought our lives could be great without children, too. “We’re happy,” he used to say to me. “Why can’t we just go on being happy?” He became frustrated with me. He never understood that it’s possible to miss what you’ve never had, to mourn for it. ~ Paula Hawkins,
1252:A Governor could make all the difference in a state: KEAN: BUSH VISIT MEANS N.J. HAS A FRIEND IN WHITE HOUSE That would be the headline from Trenton, if the Governor, like Tom Kean, was a friend who’d billboard Bush’s day in the Garden State—his visit to that toxic-waste cleanup site, all the help he’d offered on that Superfund. ... Of course, if the Governor wasn’t a friend, then his appointed State Police Chief might find time to take a couple of press calls. ... That would be a different headline: BUSH VISIT WILL COST $200,000 IN OVERTIME ~ Richard Ben Cramer,
1253:I sat at the bottom of the garden, and I wrote the last page of my book, and I knew that I had written a book that was better than the one I had set out to write. Possibly a book better than I am. You cannot plan for that. Sometimes you work as hard as you can on something, and still the cake does not rise. Sometimes the cake is better than you had ever dreamed. And then, whether the work was good or bad, whether it did what you hoped or it failed, as a writer you shrug, and you go on to the next thing, whatever the next thing is. That's what we do. ~ Neil Gaiman,
1254:so my grandmother was not without humanity. and if she wore cocktail dresses when she labored in the garden, they were cocktail dresses she no longer intended to wear to cocktail parties. even in her rose garden she did not want to appear underdressed. if the dresses got too dirty from gardening, she threw them out. when my mother suggested to her that she might have them cleaned, my grandmother said, "what? and have those people at the cleaners what i was doing in a dress to make it that dirty?" from my grandmother i learned that logic is relative. ~ John Irving,
1255:IAGO
Can’t help it? Nonsense! What we are is up to us. Our bodies are like gardens and our willpower is like the gardener. Depending on what we plant—weeds or lettuce, or one kind of herb rather than a variety, the garden will either be barren and useless, or rich and productive. If we didn’t have rational minds to counterbalance our emotions and desires, our bodily urges would take over. We’d end up in ridiculous situations. Thankfully, we have reason to cool our raging lusts. In my opinion, what you call love is just an offshoot of lust. ~ William Shakespeare,
1256:Out in the garden, a sudden stirring of wind. The hedgerow trembling and last year’s leaves blowing across my drive. And birds startled to flight, as by the sudden presence of someone or thing I could not see. And the sudden gathering and rushing of spiralling winds, dust-devils that sucked up leaves and grit and other bits of debris and shot them aloft. Dust-devils, Henri, in March—in England—half-a-dozen of them that paraded all about Blowne House for the best part of thirty minutes! In any other circumstance, a marvellous, fascinating phenomenon. ~ Brian Lumley,
1257:Spring In War-Time
Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lover’s lane
Where last year we used to goWhere we shall not go again.
In the hedge the buds are new,
By our wood the violets peerJust like last year’s violets too,
But they have no scent this year.
Every bird has heart to sing
Of its nest, warmed by its breast;
We had heart to sing last spring,
But we never built our nest.
Presently red roses blown
Will make all the garden gay..
Not yet have the daisies grown
On your clay.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1258:Expelled from the Garden of Eden on the Mountain of God, the distant patriarch Adam and his wife Havah, or Eve, the “mother of all living,” were forgotten by their descendants in the mists of time. Even though Elohim’s gracious forbearance covered them, they lived in regret the rest of their days with a mysterious people somewhere in the volcanic region of Sahand, near the boundary of the Garden. Like a dog kicked out of its shelter, they lived as close to their original home as they could without being struck down by those who guarded its perimeter. ~ Brian Godawa,
1259:Song
THE LIGHT of spring
On the emerald earth,
A man, a maid,
And a mood of mirth,
A foolish jest,
That a smile amends -­
It took no more
To make us friends.
An evening breeze,
The year in bloom,
Lips quickly met
In the garden's gloom;
The trees about us,
The stars above -­
It took no more
To teach us love.
Frost in the air -­
The air like wine -­
Go you your way,
And I'll go mine.
Lightly we part
Who lightly met What more is needed,
When both forget?
~ Alice Duer Miller,
1260:Why should existence be arranged so that our alienation from God is a given and we must forever fight our way not simply toward what he is but toward the whole notion that he is? If you let go of the literal creation story as it comes down to us through Genesis, if you let go of the Garden of Eden, the intellectual apple, the whole history of man’s separation from God tied to the tongue of a talking snake; if you let go of these things—and who but a child could hold on to them—then you are left, paradoxically, with a child’s insistent question: Why? ~ Christian Wiman,
1261:The Genesis story of the reason why Adam and Eve were driven out of the Garden of Eden was not that they had tasted of the Tree of Knowledge, as is popularly conceived, but the fear lest they should disobey a second time and eat of the Tree of Life and live forever: And the Lord God said, Behold, the man is become as one. of us, to know good and evil: and now, lest he put forth his hand, and take also of the tree of life, and eat, and live for ever: Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was taken. ~ Lin Yutang,
1262:A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land. ~ Rumi,
1263:Great was the joy in the Greshamsbury nursery when the second change took place. Among the doctor’s attributes, not hitherto mentioned, was an aptitude for the society of children. He delighted to talk to children, and to play with them. He would carry them on his back, three or four at a time, roll with them on the ground, race with them in the garden, invent games for them, contrive amusements in circumstances which seemed quite adverse to all manner of delight; and, above all, his physic was not nearly so nasty as that which came from Silverbridge. ~ Anthony Trollope,
1264:I am not sure who I am," I said cautiously.

"Many people never are," she said. "But it doesn't matter, you know. If for one moment of your whole life you know that you are, then that's your life, that moment, that's unnua, that's all. In a short life I saw my mother's face, like the sun. So I'm here. In a long life I went there and there and there; but I dug in the garden, the root of a weed came up in my hand, so I am unnua. When you get old, you know, you keep being here instead of there, everything is here. Everything is here," she repeated. ~ Ursula K Le Guin,
1265:so my grandmother was not without humanity. and if she wore cocktail dresses when she labored in the garden, they were cocktail dresses she no longer intended to wear to cocktail parties. even in her rose garden she did not want to appear underdressed. if the dresses got too dirty from gardening, she threw them out. when my mother suggested to her that she might have them cleaned, my grandmother said, "what? and have those people at the cleaners what i was doing in a dress to make it that dirty?"

from my grandmother i learned that logic is relative. ~ John Irving,
1266:When patients change their focus from “I have to wash again” to “I’m going to garden,” I suspected, the circuit in the brain that underlies gardening becomes activated. If done regularly, that would produce a habitual association: the urge to wash would be followed automatically by the impulse to go work in the garden. I therefore began encouraging patients to plan sequences of Refocusing behaviors that they could call on, in order to make them as automatic as possible. Refocusing is the step that, more than any other, produces changes in the brain. ~ Jeffrey M Schwartz,
1267:The flat area immediately below was broken up into a formal pattern of beds containing oleander and more clipped clouds of box, a southern imitation of the grand parterres of aristocratic chateaux. A rose garden beyond was the first in a series of gardens created on descending levels, apparently linked by a magnificently overgrown wisteria. Dense lines of cypress hid any farther areas from view, including the memorial garden that was her special brief. As a whole, the garden was charming, luxuriant, but- from a professional point of view- dilapidated. ~ Deborah Lawrenson,
1268:The Garden

En robe de parade.
- Samain


Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anaemia.

And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion. ~ Ezra Pound,
1269:disappearing around a bend into the dusk. She’ll walk to Marbella, the humour she’s in, Valerie thought glumly, making her way back up the garden to the terracotta terrace. She would have liked to pour herself a big glass of fruity red wine and get smashed but she wouldn’t drink knowing that her granddaughter was asleep inside, and Briony was scorching along the beach in a temper, having given Valerie no indication as to what time she’d be back. That damn letter. She’d forgotten all about it. Tessa had given it to Valerie’s mother, Carmel, some time after ~ Patricia Scanlan,
1270:Enoch asked Adam about the name he had uttered earlier, Yahweh Elohim. Adam apologized, “It slips out too often. It is the covenant name of Elohim. It is reserved for only the most sacred of relationships. It expresses his essence as the foundation of existence itself. The divine council of heavenly host uses it.” He paused for a moment. “We used it in the Garden, but now with the Edenic exile…” his voice cracked for a moment. “It is a name that should remain secret until latter days. For what purpose, I do not know. Perhaps it has to do with the seed of Eve. ~ Brian Godawa,
1271:Children come into the world with that sense of celebration and delight in the awesomeness of life. Then we eat of that wonderful, terrible fruit depicted in the story of the Garden of Eden, and our lives become divided. In childhood we have innocent wholeness, which then is transformed into informed separateness. If one is lucky, a second transformation occurs later in life, a transformation into informed wholeness. A proverb puts it this way: in life our task is to go from unconscious perfection to conscious imperfection and then to conscious perfection. ~ Robert A Johnson,
1272:What actually happens when you die is that your brain stops working and your body rots, like Rabbit did when he died and we buried him in the earth at the bottom of the garden. And all his molecules were broken down into other molecules and they went into the earth and were eaten by worms and went into the plants and if we go and dig in the same place in 10 years there will be nothing exept his skeleton left. And in 1,000 years even his skeleton will be gone. But that is all right because he is a part of the flowers and the apple tree and the hawthorn bush now. ~ Mark Haddon,
1273:Indeed, so deep is my pleasure in the work of the garden that, if there be a dimension after death in which grieving for the loss of the world of senses is possible, I shall grieve for no person however once agonisingly desired and passionately beloved, for no emotional adventure however uplifting, for no success however warming, no infamy however exhilarating, for nothing half so much as I shall grieve to the loss of the earth itself, the soil, the seeds, the plants, the very weeds... It is a love almost overriding my love the words that could express that love. ~ Hal Porter,
1274:It is no disparagement to the garden to say it will not fence and weed itself, nor prune its own fruit trees, nor roll and cut its own lawns...It will remain a garden only if someone does all these things to it...If you want to see the difference between [the garden's] contribution and the gardener's, put the commonest weed it grows side by side with his hoes rakes, shears, and a packet of weed killer; you have put beauty, energy, and fecundity beside dead, steril things. Just so, our 'decency and common sense' show grey and deathlike beside the geniality of love. ~ C S Lewis,
1275:And suddenly it came to him. That Strawberry Fields garden he'd come from, and the Freedom Tower he'd been thinking of: taken together, didn't they contain the two words that said it all about this city, the two words that really mattered? It seemed to him that they did. Two words: the one an invitation, the other an ideal, an adventure, a necessity. "Imagine" said the garden. "Freedom" said the tower. Imagine freedom. That was the spirit, the message of this city he loved. You really didn't need anything more. Dream it and do it. But first you must dream it. ~ Edward Rutherfurd,
1276:Song Vii
THE summer down the garden walks
Swept in her garments bright;
She touched the pale still lily stalks
And crowned them with delight;
She breathed upon the rose's head
And filled its heart with fire,
And with a golden carpet spread
The path of my desire.
The larkspurs stood like sentinels
To greet her as she came,
Soft rang the Canterbury bells
The music of her name.
She passed across the happy land
Where all dear dreams flower free;
She took my true love by the hand
And led her out to me.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1277:But what I thought of most was the ghostly figure I had seen in the garden that first night after my arrival. I went out every evening and wandered through the walks and paths; but, try as I might, I did not see my vision again. At last, after many days, the memory grew more faint, and my old moody nature gradually overcame the temporary sense of lightness I had experienced. The summer turned to autumn, and I grew restless. It began to rain. The dampness pervaded the gardens, and the outer halls smelled musty, like tombs; the grey sky oppressed me intolerably. ~ F Marion Crawford,
1278:patterned with different states and impressions, which my consciousness would quietly unfold while I was reading, and which ranged from the most deeply hidden aspirations of my heart to the wholly external view of the horizon spread out before my eyes at the foot of the garden, what was from the first the most permanent and the most intimate part of me, the lever whose incessant movements controlled all the rest, was my belief in the philosophic richness and beauty of the book I was reading, and my desire to appropriate these to myself, whatever the book might be. ~ Marcel Proust,
1279:Suddenly my dress feels cinched way too tight and I can no longer breathe. I can’t contain it. I lose it and so does every other woman sitting in the garden. I’m so overwhelmed that it takes me a few seconds to notice the tear trickling down Nikolaj’s face. I let go of his hand and reach up to wipe it away. He grabs hold of my hand again and presses it against his lips before dropping a soft kiss inside my palm. Although it seems like it’s only the two of us in this garden and we’ve shut everything out, Father Frederic continues. “It’s time to exchange the rings. ~ Scarlett Avery,
1280:Beatrix, are you there?” “Two rows away,” came her sister’s cheerful reply. “Medusa found some worms!” “Lovely.” Harry gave Poppy a bemused glance. “Who . . . or should I say what . . . is Medusa?” “Hedgehog,” she replied. “Medusa’s getting a bit plump, and Beatrix is exercising her.” To Harry’s credit, he remained composed as he remarked, “You know, I pay my staff a fortune to keep those out of the garden.” “Oh, have no fear. Medusa is merely a guest hedgehog. She would never run away from Beatrix.” “Guest hedgehog,” Harry repeated, a smile working across his mouth. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1281:It was that evening, when my mother abdicated her authority, that marked the beginning, along with the slow death of my grandmother, of the decline of my will and of my health. Everything had been decided at the moment when, unable to bear the idea of waiting until the next day to set my lips on my mother's face, I had made my resolution, jumped out of bed, and gone, in my nightshirt, to stay by the window through which the moonlight came, until I heard M. Swann go. My parents having gone with him, I heard the garden gate open, the bell ring, the gate close again... ~ Marcel Proust,
1282:I was sat at the bottom of the garden a week ago, smoking a reflective cheroot, thinking about this and that - mostly that, and I just happened to glance at the night sky and I marvelled at the millions of stars glistening like pieces of quicksilver thrown carelessly onto black velvet. In awe I watched the waxen moon ride across the zenith of the heavens like an amber chariot towards the void of infinite space wherein the tethered bolts of Jupiter and Mars hang forever in their orbital majesty; and as I looked at all this, I thought, 'I must put a roof on this lavatory. ~ Les Dawson,
1283:You must understand, Mr. Faust, that this is not the only world that exists. Like the petals of a snowflake, other dimensions weave and lace around our own, sometimes touching our planet, sometimes violently drilling through it. The tunnels were ancient relics, the doomed efforts of some long-dead sorcerer to create a permanent bridge between our world and another.” “What other world?” He didn’t answer at first. He got up, took a pair of mismatched mugs down from a cabinet, and poured two cups of coffee. He held one out to me. His hand trembled. “The Garden of Eden. ~ Craig Schaefer,
1284:...Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them-and then they leap.
I'll be honest about it. It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemene. If Christ played with doubt, so must we.If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation ~ Yann Martel,
1285:Just why the Lord would say to Adam that he forbade him to partake of the fruit of the tree is not made clear in the Bible account, but in the original as it comes to us in the Book of Moses it is made definitely cear. It is that the Lord said to Adam that if he wished to remain as he was in the garden, then he was not to eat the fruit, but if he desired to eat it and partake of death he was at liberty to do so. So really it was not in the true sense a transgression of a divine commandment. Adam made the wise decision, in fact the only decision that he could make ~ Joseph Fielding Smith,
1286:place where man laughs, sings, picks flowers, chases butterflies and pets birds, makes love with maidens, and plays with children. Here he spontaneously reveals his nature, the base as well as the noble. Here also he buries his sorrows and difficulties and cherishes his ideals and hopes. It is in the garden that men discover themselves. Indeed one discovers not only his real self but also his ideal self?he returns to his youth. Inevitably the garden is made the scene of man's merriment, escapades, romantic abandonment, spiritual awakening or the perfection of his finer self. ~ Confucius,
1287:You are a very interesting man," Rosamund stated. "And you have female friends. Actual friends. I don't think Lord Cosgrove can claim that."
He smiled, sincerely complimented. "Why thank you, my lady. So, as long as I'm here, shall we kiss again, or do you wish to proceed along the garden path a bit further?"
She backed up a step. "That's not very romantic."
It took more control than he expected to remain where he was and not pursue her. "Neither is your prospective husband. Don't expect posies. If you do receive them, they're more than likely deadly nightshade. ~ Suzanne Enoch,
1288:you can switch from calm and loving to enraged and furious within a split second. I know as soon as I open my eyes to see you standing over me that I’m going to regret sitting down for five minutes’ peace, remembering that I haven’t tidied the garden before stopping for a moment. When we returned from the beach Maggie was lively after her nap in the car and headed straight outside to play while I prepared us some dinner. She spent the rest of the afternoon in the garden, sitting in the sandpit playing dolls. Exhaustion had kicked in again by the time we had eaten and I ended ~ Lisa Hall,
1289:It is moonlight. Alone in the silence
I ascend my stairs once more,
While waves remote in pale blue starlight
Crash on a white sand shore.
It is moonlight. The garden is silent.
I stand in my room alone.
Across my wall, from the far-off moon,
A rain of fire is thrown.
There are houses hanging above the stars,
And stars hung under the sea,
And a wind from the long blue vault of time
Waves my curtains for me.
I wait in the dark once more,
swung between space and space:
Before the mirror I lift my hands
And face my remembered face. ~ Conrad Aiken,
1290:The coming together of a man and woman was a holy thing, after all. God had chosen this way of replenishing the earth. God did everything so elegantly, with such an exquisite attention to detail. She knew this from studying the flowers in the garden and watching the morning sky, all mauve and pink and orange. So beautiful. But God had looked at all this, His ideas, His wonderful sense of color and design put into action, and had said merely that it was good. Not great. Not fantastic. Just good. But when He had looked at man and woman together, He had said it was "very good". ~ Naomi Ragen,
1291:Arin undid the ring, slipped off two keys, and set them in Kestrel’s hand. “These are for your suite. Keep them.”
She gazed at the dull metal on her palm. She recognized one key. The other…“Is this one for the garden door?”
“Yes, but”--Arin looked away--“you wouldn’t want to use it.”
Kestrel had guessed that Arin lived in the west wing suite, and that it had been his father’s as hers had been his mother’s. But it wasn’t until then that she understood what the two gardens were for: a way for husband and wife to visit each other without the entire household knowing. ~ Marie Rutkoski,
1292:I have cans. In my bag. Where do I? Out them there no don't put down or they'll go you'll be sorry. Money spent. I trup trup off behind her. Think I'm new and white. In the garden. In the wet. For grass still sucks it up all day. Where's this? Just some fella I know she says. He said come and bring a friend. Him and other lads have this band. Oh. Brilliant. Good too. They squat here. Christ. What do I know? What do I know? People living mad life but I'm around it now. I can't be in. I'm. What'd I'd say to those girls in school if. No. I won't. Won't be going back in there. ~ Eimear McBride,
1293:To Dr. A.
Within the cot the Muses love,
May Peace reside, that household dove!
Beneath this roof, around this hearth,
Mild Wisdom mix with social Mirth!
May Friendship often seek the door
Where Science pours her varied store!
Her richest dyes may Flora spread,
And early paint the garden's bed!
May Health descend with healing wing,
Bright days and balmy nights to bring!
And tried Affection still be by,
Love's watchful ear and anxious eye;
And Sport and Laughter hither move,
To bless the cot the Muses love!
~ Anna Laetitia Barbauld,
1294:Lois Spears
Here lies the body of Lois Spears,
Born Lois Fluke, daughter of Willard Fluke,
Wife of Cyrus Spears,
Mother of Myrtle and Virgil Spears,
Children with clear eyes and sound limbs -(I was born blind)
I was the happiest of women
As wife, mother and housekeeper,
Caring for my loved ones,
And making my home
A place of order and bounteous hospitality:
For I went about the rooms,
And about the garden
With an instinct as sure as sight,
As though there were eyes in my finger tips -Glory to God in the highest.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
1295:The garden reconciles human art and wild nature, hard work and deep pleasure, spiritual practice and the material world. It is a magical place because it is not divided. The many divisions and polarizations that terrorize a disenchanted world find peaceful accord among mossy rock walls, rough stone paths, and trimmed bushes. Maybe a garden sometimes seems fragile, for all its earth and labor, because it achieves such an extraordinary delicate balance of nature and human life, naturalness and artificiality. It has its own liminality, its point of balance between great extremes. ~ Thomas Moore,
1296:The Fall of humankind means that the original design of the world is broken. In the Garden, men and women were called to work- to care for and cultivate the earth. When Adam and Eve sinned, part of the curse was that now "thorns and thistles" would grow out of the ground as well as flowers and food. This means that the good pattern of the life God created here is not completely eradicated, but it now falls far short of its original intent. It should be that hard work would always lead to prosperity, but now sometimes you can work hard and injustice or disaster wipes it away. ~ Timothy J Keller,
1297:Not just one day, you will live many days,” the doctor would answer, “you will live months and years, too.” “But what are years, what are months!” he would exclaim. “Why count the days, when even one day is enough for a man to know all happiness. My dears, why do we quarrel, boast before each other, remember each other’s offenses? Let us go to the garden, let us walk and play and love and praise and kiss each other, and bless our life.” “He’s not long for this world, your son,” the doctor said to mother as she saw him to the porch, “from sickness he is falling into madness. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
1298:The Girl
By a cliff a golden cloud once lingered;
On his breast it slept…
From the swing, from the garden, helter-skelter,
A twig runs up to the glass.
Enormous, close, with a drop of emerald
At the tip of the cluster cast.
The garden is clouded, lost in confusion,
In staggering, teeming fuss.
The dear one, as big as the garden, a sister
By nature-a second glass!
But then this twig is brought in a tumbler
And put by the looking-glass;
Which wonders:-Who is it that blurs my vision,
From the dull, from the prison-class?
~ Boris Pasternak,
1299:The champions of socialism call themselves progressives, but they recommend a system which is characterized by rigid observance of routine and by a resistance to every kind of improvement. They call themselves liberals, but they are intent upon abolishing liberty. They call themselves democrats, but they yearn for dictatorship. They call themselves revolutionaries, but they want to make the government omnipotent. They promise the blessings of the Garden of Eden, but they plan to transform the world into a gigantic post office. Every man but one a subordinate clerk in a bureau. ~ Ludwig von Mises,
1300:You Thought I Was That Type
You thought I was that type:
That you could forget me,
And that I'd plead and weep
And throw myself under the hooves of a bay mare,
Or that I'd ask the sorcerers
For some magic potion made from roots and send you a terrible gift:
My precious perfumed handkerchief.
Damn you! I will not grant your cursed soul
Vicarious tears or a single glance.
And I swear to you by the garden of the angels,
I swear by the miracle-working icon,
And by the fire and smoke of our nights:
I will never come back to you.
~ Anna Akhmatova,
1301:"Ever since the religion of Islam appeared in the world, the espousers of it...have been as wolves and tigers to all other nations, rending and tearing all that fell into their merciless paws, and grinding them with their iron teeth; that numberless cities are raised from the foundation, and only their name remaining; that many countries, which were once as the garden of God, are now a desolate wilderness; and that so many once numerous and powerful nations are vanished from the earth! Such was, and is at this day, the rage, the fury, the revenge, of these destroyers of human kind". ~ John Wesley,
1302:Chagrin D'Amour
IF Love and I were all alone
I might forget to grieve,
And for his pleasure and my own
Might happier garlands weave;
But you sit there, and watch us wear
The mourning wreaths you wove:
And while such mocking eyes you bear
I am not friends with Love.
Withdraw those cruel eyes, and let
Me search the garden through
That I may weave, ere Love be set,
The wreath of Love for you;
Till you, whom Love so well adorns,
Its hidden thorns discover,
And know at last what crown of thorns
It was you gave your lover.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1303:In the postbiblical world we understand that from the first day of the world, God trusted man to make choices, when He entrusted Adam to make the right decision about which fruit to eat in the Garden of Eden. We are responsible for making God’s presence manifest by what we do, by the choices we make. And the reason this issue is most acute in cyberspace is that no one else is in charge there. There is no place in today’s world where you encounter the freedom to choose that God gave man more than in cyberspace. Cyberspace is where we are all connected and no one is in charge. So, ~ Thomas L Friedman,
1304:This web of time–the strands of which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the centuries–embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not, and yet in others both of us exist. In this one, in which chance has favored me, you have come to my gate. In another, you, crossing the garden, have found me dead. In yet another, I say these very same words but am in error, a phantom Time is forever dividing itself toward innumerable futures."

from “Garden of Forking Paths ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
1305:We lay side by side on the extension roof, hands behind our heads, elbows just touching. My head was still spinning a little, not unpleasantly, from the dancing and the wine. The breeze was warm across my face, and even through the city lights I could see constellations: the Big Dipper, Orion's Belt. The pine tree at the bottom of the garden rustled like the sea, ceaselessly. For a moment I felt as if the universe had turned upside down and we were falling softly into an enormous black bowl of stars and nocturne, and I knew, beyond any doubt, that everything was going to be all right. ~ Tana French,
1306:Not just one day, you will live many days,” the doctor would answer, “you will live months and years, too.” “But what are years, what are months!” he would exclaim. “Why count the days, when even one day is enough for a man to know all happiness. My dears, why do we quarrel, boast before each other, remember each other’s offenses? Let us go to the garden, let us walk and play and love and praise and kiss each other, and bless our life.” “He’s not long for this world, your son,” the doctor said to mother as she saw him to the porch, “from sickness he is falling into madness.” The ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
1307:I think the 'Just say no' mentality is so crazed. I saw a thing in a women's magazine the other day. 'He smokes cannabis, what am I to do? He laughs it off when I try to tell him, he says it's not really harmful...' Of course you're half hoping the advice will be, 'Well, you know it's not that harmful; if you love him, if you talk to him about it, tell him maybe he should keep it in the garden shed or something,' you know, a reasonable point of view. But of course it was, 'No, no, all drugs are bad. Librium's good, Valium's good. But cannabis, ooooh!' I hate that unreasoned attitude. ~ Paul McCartney,
1308:Marveling he stands on the cathedral's
steep ascent, close to the rose window,
as though frightened at the apotheosis
which grew and all at once

set him down over these and these.
And straight he stands and glad of his endurance,
simply determined; as the husbandman
who began and who knew not how

from the garden of Eden finished-full
to find a way out into
the new earth. God was hard to persuade;

and threatened him, instead of acceding,
ever and again, that he would die.
Yet man persisted: she will bring forth.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Adam
,
1309:Listen to me, you who pursue righteousness,         you who seek the LORD:     look to the rock from which you were hewn,         and to the quarry from which you were dug.     2 Look to Abraham your father         and to Sarah who bore you;     for  e he was but one when I called him,         that I might bless him and multiply him.     3 For the LORD  f comforts Zion;         he comforts all her waste places     and makes her wilderness like  g Eden,         her desert like  h the garden of the LORD;      i joy and gladness will be found in her,         thanksgiving and the voice of song. ~ Anonymous,
1310:For lunch, Tsipis led them to Hassadar’s most exclusive locale—the official dining room of the Count’s Residence, overlooking the Square. The remarkable spread which the staff laid on hinted that Miles had sent down a few urgent behind-the-scenes instructions for the care and feeding of his . . . gardener. Mark confirmed this after dessert when Kareen led Enrique and the widow off to see the garden and fountain in the Residence’s inner courtyard, and he and Tsipis lingered over the exquisite vintage of Vorkosigan estate-bottled wine usually reserved for visits from Emperor Gregor. ~ Lois McMaster Bujold,
1311:Mizzy has wandered into the garden. Carole looks contemplatively at him, says, "Lovely boy."

"My wife's insanely younger brother. He's one of those kids with too much potential, if you know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean."

Further details would be redundant. Peter knows the Potters' story: the pretty, unstoppable daughter who's tearing through her Harvard doctorate versus the older child, the son, who has, it seems, been undone by his good fortune; who at thirty-eight is still surfing and getting stoned by way of occupations, currently in Australia. ~ Michael Cunningham,
1312:The Nonsense Verse
At the door of my own little hovel,
Reading a novel I sat;
And as I was reading the novel
A gnat flew away with my hat.
As fast as a fraudulent banker
Away with my hat it fled,
And calmly came to an anchor
In the midst of the cucumber-bed.
I went and purchased a yacht
And traversed the garden-tank,
And I gave it that insect hot
When I got to the other bank;
Of its life I made an abridgment
By squeezing it somewhat flat,
But I still cannot think what that midge meant
By running away with my hat.
~ Alfred Edward Housman,
1313:There’s a lot of dirty theology out there, the religious counterpart to dirty politics and dirty business, I suppose. You might call it spiritual pornography—a kind of for-profit exploitative nakedness. It’s found in many of the same places as physical pornography (the Internet and cable TV for starters), and it promises similar things: instant intimacy, fantasy and make-believe, private voyeurism and vicarious experience, communion without commitment. That’s certainly not what we’re after in these pages. No, we’re after a lost treasure as old as the story of the Garden of Eden: the... ~ Brian D McLaren,
1314:I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope
For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love
For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith
But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought:
So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.
Whisper of running streams, and winter lightning.
The wild thyme unseen and the wild strawberry,
The laughter in the garden, echoed ecstasy
Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony
Of death and birth. ~ T S Eliot,
1315:She wandered to the window, staring out at a path of stone arches that led through the east garden. The arches had overgrown with roses, clematis, and honeysuckle, forming a fragrant tunnel that led to a stone-walled summerhouse with a wood-latticed ceiling. Memories of McKenna were everywhere in the garden... his hands moving carefully among the roses, pruning the dead blossoms... his tanned face dappled with the sunlight that broke through the leaves and lattices... the hair on the back of his neck glittering with sweat as he shoveled gravel onto the path, or weeded the raised flower beds. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1316:They say you only really appreciate a garden once you reach a certain age, and I suppose there is a truth in that. It’s probably something to do with the great circle of life. There seems to be something miraculous about seeing the relentless optimism of new growth after the bleakness of winter, a kind of joy in the difference every year, the way nature chooses to show off different parts of the garden to its full advantage. There have been times—the times when my marriage proved to be somewhat more populated than I had anticipated—when it has been a refuge, times when it has been a joy. There ~ Jojo Moyes,
1317:The outside world, the world of free time in the yard or the garden or on the street, is only a distant murmur in the sickroom. Inside, a whole world of characters and stories proliferate out of the books you read. The fever that weakens your perception as it sharpens your imagination turns the sickroom into something new, both familiar and strange; monsters come grinning out of the patterns on the curtains and the carpet, and chairs, tables, bookcases and wardrobes burst out of their normal shapes and become mountains and buildings and ships you can almost touch although they're far away ~ Bernhard Schlink,
1318:I have often thought that if heaven had given me choice of my position and calling, it should have been on a rich spot of earth, well watered, and near a good market for the productions of the garden. No occupation is so delightful to me as the culture of the earth, and no lucture comparable to that of the garden. Sucha a variety of subjeccts, some one always coming to perfection, the failure of one thing repaired by the succes of another, and instead of one harvest a continued one through the year. Under a total want of demand except for our family table, I am still devoted to the garden. ~ Thomas Jefferson,
1319:must have been a book—way down there in the slush pile of manuscripts—that somehow slipped out of the final draft of the Bible. That would have been the chapter that dealt with how we’re supposed to recover from the criticism session in the Garden, and discover a sense that we’re still welcome on the planet. There are moments in Scripture when we hear that God delights in people, and I am incredulous. But they are few and far between. Perhaps cooler heads determined that too much welcome would make sissies out of us all, and chose instead accounts of the ever popular slaughter, exile, and shame. ~ Anne Lamott,
1320:Paramhansa Yogananda gave the following prayer-affirmation to help us creatively develop our individual qualities while tuning into divine guidance:
I will use my creative thinking ability to gain success in every worth‑while project that I undertake. I will help myself that I may bring into proper use all my God‑given powers.
I buried dead disappointments in the cemeteries of yesterday. Today I will plow the garden of life with my new creative efforts. God will help me if I help myself, praying to Him to help me to bring success to my efforts. (Metaphysical Meditations, 1932 Ed.) ~ Paramhansa Yogananda,
1321:A Moment Of Happiness:
A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land. ~ Rumi,
1322:I had no thought, that night—none, I am quite sure—of what was soon to happen to me. But I have always remembered since, that when we had stopped at the garden gate to look up at the sky, and when we went upon our way, I had for a moment an undefinable impression of myself as being something different from what I then was. I know it was then, and there, that I had it. I have ever since connected the feeling with that spot and time, and with everything associated with that spot and time, to the distant voices in the town, the barking of a dog, and the sound of wheels coming down the miry hill. ~ Charles Dickens,
1323:It is often said, mainly by the 'no-contests', that although there is no positive evidence for the existence of God, nor is there evidence against his existence. So it is best to keep an open mind and be agnostic. At first sight that seems an unassailable position, at least in the weak sense of Pascal's wager. But on second thoughts it seems a cop-out, because the same could be said of Father Christmas and tooth fairies. There may be fairies at the bottom of the garden. There is no evidence for it, but you can't prove that there aren't any, so shouldn't we be agnostic with respect to fairies? ~ Richard Dawkins,
1324:She rose and washed and dressed herself and braided her hair freshly, and having made her room neat for the day she went into the peach-tree garden. It lay in the silence of the spring morning. Under the early sun the dew still hung in a bright mist on the grass, and the pool in the center of the garden was brimming its stone walls. The water was clear and the fish were flashing their golden sides near the surface. The great low-built house that surrounded the garden was still in sleep. Birds twittered in the eaves undisturbed and a small Pekingese dog slept on the threshold like a small lioness. ~ Pearl S Buck,
1325:If a prisoner hadn't lived outside, he would not

detest the dungeon. Desiring knows there's satisfaction beyond this. Straying maps

the path. A secret freedom opens through a crevice you can barely see. Your love

of many things proves they're one. Every separate stiff trunk and stem in the garden

connects with nimble root hairs underground. The awareness a wine drinker wants cannot

be tasted in wine, but that failure brings his deep thirst closer. So the heart keeps ignoring

the waterfall and the key, but there is one guiding through all the desiring restlessness. ~ Rumi,
1326:It was what she'd most enjoyed about being married to Jim. It wasn't only the heady flush of emotions when they'd made love that enthralled her; more than that, it was the lazy mornings they'd spent reading the newspaper in bed while drinking coffee, or the cold December mornings they'd planted bulbs in the garden, or the hours they'd spent traipsing through various stores, picking out bedroom furniture, debating cherry or maple. Those were the moments she felt most content, when she finally allowed herself to believe in the impossible. Those were the moments when all seemed right in the world. ~ Nicholas Sparks,
1327:Original sin itself comes straight from the Old Testament myth of Adam and Eve. Their sin - eating the fruit of a forbidden tree - seems mild enough to merit a mere reprimand. But the symbolic nature of the fruit (knowledge of good and evil, which in practice turned out to be knowledge that they were naked) was enough to turn their scrumping escapade into the mother and father of all sins. They and all their descendants were banished forever from the Garden of Eden, deprived of the gift of eternal life, and condemned to generations of painful labour, in the field and in childbirth respectively. ~ Richard Dawkins,
1328:They fell quiet looking at the garden. They seemed a little sad, somehow pained, but at the same time perplexed. As though they were looking at their own thoughts and not seeing what they were actually looking at, not seeing the plants of the garden, the fig trees, and the hiding places of the crickets. But what can you see in thoughts? Pain, grief, hope, curiosity, longing, all those things stay with you to the end and your mind will wear itself out if you don’t put something else in there, where did I hear that, your mind will be like two millstones with no grist between them. Then: you go crazy! ~ Orhan Pamuk,
1329:You know that apple Adam ate in the Garden of Eden, referred to in the Bible?' he asked. 'You know what was in that apple? Logic. Logic and intellectual stuff. That was all that was in it. So—this is my point—what you have to do is vomit it up if you want to see things as they really are....'

The trouble is,' Teddy said, 'most people don't want to see things the way they are. They don't even want to stop getting born and dying all the time, instead of stopping and staying with God, where it's really nice.' He reflected. 'I never saw such a bunch of apple-eaters,' he said. He shook his head. ~ J D Salinger,
1330:Allow me to refresh your obviously faulty memories. I allow you to stay within my front garden on the understanding that you defend the house against all intruders, except the ones I have described, on numerous occasions. Torch-bearing mobs?"
"Eat them!" chorused the criminally insane fey of Cabal's garden, a tribe whose stature was inversely proportional to their malevolence.
"Correct. The postman?"
"Eat him!" they cried joyfully.
"No!" snapped Cabal. "You let the postman by!"
"Oops," said the garden. There was some small shuffling while they hid a peaked cap behind a rosebush. ~ Jonathan L Howard,
1331:I Worried"

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers
flow in the right direction, will the earth turn
as it was taught, and if not how shall
I correct it?

Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven,
can I do better?

Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows
can do it and I am, well,
hopeless.

Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it,
am I going to get rheumatism,
lockjaw, dementia?

Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang. ~ Mary Oliver,
1332:...a new day was starting, the things of the garden were not concerned with our troubles. A blackbird ran across the rose-garden to the lawns in swift, short rushes, stopping now and again to stab at the earth with his yellow beak. A thrush, too, went about his business, and two stout, little wagtails, following one another, and a little cluster of twittering sparrows. A gull poised himself high in the air, silent and alone, and then spread his wings wide and swooped beyond the lawns to the woods and the Happy Valley. These things continued, our worries and anxieties had no power to alter them. ~ Daphne du Maurier,
1333:A moment of happiness,
you and I sitting on the verandah,
apparently two, but one in soul, you and I.
We feel the flowing water of life here,
you and I, with the garden's beauty
and the birds singing.
The stars will be watching us,
and we will show them
what it is to be a thin crescent moon.
You and I unselfed, will be together,
indifferent to idle speculation, you and I.
The parrots of heaven will be cracking sugar
as we laugh together, you and I.
In one form upon this earth,
and in another form in a timeless sweet land.

~ Jalaluddin Rumi, A Moment Of Happiness
,
1334:Even if there be no hereafter, I would live my time believing in a grand thing that ought to be true if it is not. And if these be not truths, then is the loftiest part of our nature a waste. Let me hold by the better than the actual, and fall into nothingness off the same precipice with Jesus and Paul and a thousand more, who were lovely in their lives, and with their death make even the nothingness into which they have passed like the garden of the Lord. I will go further, and say I would rather die forevermore believing as Jesus believed, than live forevermore believing as those that deny Him. ~ George MacDonald,
1335:I know you find your banishment from court hard, but, believe me, it could be much, much worse. This is not a true prison. You can come out here to the garden and see the sky and listen to the birds singing and the bees humming in the flowers. You can work with your own two hands and see things you have planted grow and bring beauty to the world. You can eat what you have grown, and that is a joy too. Then there is the music and the singing, which is a balm to the soul, and the convent itself is filled with beauty, the soaring pillars and the windows glowing like jewels and the embroidered tapestries. ~ Kate Forsyth,
1336:11.

If it should rain --(the sneezy moon
Said: Rain)--then I shall hear it soon
From shingles into gutters fall...
And know of what concerns me, all:

The garden will be wet till noon--
I may not walk-- my temper leans
To myths and legends--through the beans
Till they are dried-- lest I should spread
Diseases they have never had.

I hear the rain: it comes down straight.
Now I can sleep, I need not wait
To close the windows anywhere.

Tomorrow, it may be, I might
Do things to set the whole world right.
There's nothing I can do tonight. ~ Edna St Vincent Millay,
1337:He wants to demand a certain land goes to a certain people, in this case, the Garden to Adam and Eve, and no one else has the right to it. And then he kicks everyone out. What next? Will he claim a land that already has a people residing there as his own, and just wipe the indigenous inhabitants off the face of the earth to make room for ‘his people of choice?’ Will he ultimately claim the whole earth as his own and allow some clan of meek people to inherit it over those strong peoples who built up its richness? What kind of a suzerain does such a thing? I will tell you what kind: A despot and a tyrant. ~ Brian Godawa,
1338:First, liberals discover social and economic problems. Not a difficult task: the human race has always had such problems and will continue to, short of the Garden of Eden. Liberals, however, usually need scores of millions in foundation grants and taxpayer-financed commissions to come up with the startling revelations of disease, poverty, ignorance, homelessness, et al. Having identified “problems” to the accompaniment of much coordinated fanfare, the liberals proceed to invoke “solutions,” to be supplied, of course, by the federal government, which we all know and love as the Great Problem-Solving Machine. ~ Anonymous,
1339:An idol is a special kind of human creation, one that is not just mistaken in a superficial way. Rather, it advances a claim about the ultimate nature of reality that is ultimately mistaken. And since the Creator God is the ultimate meaning of the world, an idol is a representation of a false god. Implicitly or explicitly, all idols represent a challenge and counterclaim to the identity and character of the true Creator God. Like the serpent in the Garden, they all raise the question of the Creator God’s truthfulness and goodness, subtly or directly suggesting that the Creator God is neither true nor good. ~ Andy Crouch,
1340:Here again, wholeness is exchanged for a workable and successful sham personality. The “inner voice” is stifled by the growth of a superego, of conscience, the representative of collective values. The voice, the individual experience of the transpersonal, which is particularly strong in childhood, is renounced in favor of conscience. When paradise is abandoned, the voice of God that spoke in the Garden is abandoned too, and the values of the collective, of the fathers, of law and conscience, of the current morality, etc., must be accepted as the supreme values in order to make social adaptation possible. ~ Erich Neumann,
1341:I got up to get us a drink of water and as I stood in the kitchen in the early morning light, running the water out of the tap, I looked out at the hills at the back of the town, at the trees on the hills, at the bushes in the garden, at the birds, at the brand new leaves on a branch, at a cat on a fence, at the bits of wood that made the fence, and I wondered if everything I saw, if maybe every landscape we casually glanced at, was the outcome of an ecstasy we didn't even know was happening, a love-act moving at a speed slow and steady enough for us to be deceived into thinking it was just everyday reality. ~ Ali Smith,
1342:In The Evening
The garden rang with music
Of inexpressible despair.
A dish of oysters spread on ice
Smelled like the ocean, fresh and sharp.
He told me: 'I'm a faithful friend!'And lightly touched my dress.
How different from embraces
The touch of those two hands.
That's how one strokes a cat or bird
Or looks at slender lady riders…
Just laughter in his quiet eyes,
Beneath his light gold lashes.
And the despondent voices of the violins
Sing out beyond the hanging smoke:
'Give blessings to heaven above
At last you're alone with your beloved.'
~ Anna Akhmatova,
1343:In the passage of their lives together every object in the garden, every item in the house, every word they spoke, attested to their mutual love, the combining of their humuours. ... When the time came that Nora was alone most of the night and part of the day, she suffered from the personality of the house, the punishment of those who collect their lives together. Unconsciously at first, she went about disturbing nothing; then she became aware that her soft and careful movements were the outcome of an unreasoning fear - if she disarranged anything Robin might become confused - might lose the scent of home. ~ Djuna Barnes,
1344:So, good evening to you, fair lady of the garden. I bid you good night, and I shall remove my oafish self from your presence.” I was all the way to the arched entryway in the wall when she called out, “Wait!” But my stomach gave a quietly protesting grumble, and I pretended not to hear. She did not come after me, but I felt sure she watched me, and so I kept my head up and my stride even until I was out of the kitchen courtyard. I took myself down to the stables, where I vomited into the manure pile and ended up sleeping in a clean empty stall because the steps up to Burrich’s loft looked entirely too steep. ~ Robin Hobb,
1345:Sorry, old girl," I said to [my bicycle] Gladys in the gray dishwater light of early morning, "but I have to leave you at home."

I could see that she was disappointed, even though she managed to put on a brave face.

"I need you to stay here as a decoy," I whispered. "When they see you leaning against the greenhouse, they'll think I'm still in bed."

Gladys brightened considerably at the thought of a conspiracy. [...]

At the corner of the garden, I turned, and mouthed the words, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," and Gladys signaled that she wouldn't.

I was off like a shot. ~ Alan Bradley,
1346:TO the garden, the world, anew ascending,
Potent mates, daughters, sons, preluding,
The love, the life of their bodies, meaning and being,
Curious, here behold my resurrection, after slumber;
The revolving cycles, in their wide sweep, have brought me again,
Amorous, mature—all beautiful to me—all wondrous;
My limbs, and the quivering fire that ever plays through them, for reasons, most wondrous;
Existing, I peer and penetrate still,
Content with the present—content with the past,
By my side, or back of me, Eve following,
Or in front, and I following her just the same. ~ Walt Whitman,
1347:Not a single breath of air stirred in the light fabric at the windows. Moonlight flooded the garden with a cold radiance that slivered every leaf and glittered the gravel path. Shanghai was exciting, but it was too dense, too clamorous. Even though my little house was sheltered behind brick walls, I always sensed an undercurrent of noise, the hum of traffic from busy Avenue Joffre a few blocks away. I missed the quiet of evenings at Dragon Springs Road, when you could hear the rustle of vines as the air cooled and breezes lifted, when a restful silence descended, encouraging nocturnal creatures to venture out. ~ Janie Chang,
1348:'O WORDS are lightly spoken,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
'Maybe a breath of politic words
Has withered our Rose Tree;
Or maybe but a wind that blows
Across the bitter sea.'
"It needs to be but watered,'
James Connolly replied,
"To make the green come out again
And spread on every side,
And shake the blossom from the bud
To be the garden's pride.'
"But where can we draw water,'
Said Pearse to Connolly,
"When all the wells are parched away?
O plain as plain can be
There's nothing but our own red blood
Can make a right Rose Tree.'

~ William Butler Yeats, The Rose Tree
,
1349:Wake up! There’s incredible beauty all around you. I’m absorbed in writing this book but I managed to look closely at a tiger swallowtail butterfly in the garden yesterday. Did you know there are gorgeous shades of red and blue among the black streaks at the bottom of the wings? It looks like nothing other than cathedral windows, a quarter inch high. Yet if you’d asked me, I would have said that butterfly is yellow with black stripes. If I can see that, with less than two weeks to go before my deadline, you can discover something beautiful today, too. Open up to your senses. Become a connoisseur of small pleasures. ~ Anonymous,
1350:Behold the Beloved of God, perfectly spotless and holy, yet made an example of the severest vengeance; prostrate and agonizing in the garden; enduring the vilest insults from wicked men; torn with whips, and nails, and thorns; suspended, naked, wounded, and bleeding upon the cross, and there heavily complaining, that God had for a season forsaken him. Sin was the cause of all his anguish. He stood in the place of sinners, and therefore was not spared. Not any, or all, the evils which the world has known, afford such proof of the dreadful effects and detestable nature of sin, as the knowledge of Christ crucified.25 ~ Tony Reinke,
1351:IN CLOSENESS TO ME, you are safe. In the intimacy of My Presence, you are energized. No matter where you are in the world, you know you belong when you sense My nearness. Ever since the Fall, man has experienced a gaping emptiness that only My Presence can fill. I designed you for close communication with your Creator. How I enjoyed walking in the garden with Adam and Eve, before the evil one deceived them! When you commune with Me in the garden of your heart, both you and I are blessed. This is My way of living in the world—through you! Together we will push back the darkness, for I am the Light of the world. You ~ Sarah Young,
1352:We forget that as daughters we have a ministry to our fathers, mothers, and siblings. By helping them and building them up we keep them strong enough to fight their battles. Whether it is through cooking for our families, making or thrifting clothes, pulling weeds from the garden, or changing another diaper, it is all kingdom building. Sure, repetition doesn’t feel like a glamorous calling, but it is exactly what God has laid out for you. It is the mission field He gave you. If you were on the mission field in Africa you’d be doing the same cleaning, teaching, and repeating. The real challenge is will you accept it? ~ Anonymous,
1353:Do you know what day it is?" she asked, peering at him.
"Don't you?"
"Here in Spindle Cove, we ladies have a schedule. Mondays are country walks. Tuesdays, sea bathing. Wednesdays, you'd find us in the garden." She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. "What is it we do on Mondays?"
"We didn't get to Thursdays."
"Thursdays are irrelevant. I'm testing your ability to recall information. Do you remember Mondays?"
He stifled a laugh. God, her touch felt good. If she kept petting and stroking him like this, he might very well go mad.
"Tell me your name," he said. "I promise to recall it. ~ Tessa Dare,
1354:The next sound you hear in the Garden of Eden is the heaving, lurching, ear-splitting shatter of shalom, of God’s peace, screeching violently out of phase with the pitch-perfect rhythm and harmony of His original creation. Outright rebellion had been declared against the King of glory. And suddenly, these experiences we know all too well now ourselves—guilt, regret, panic, disbelief, nervousness, blame, self-hatred, hypocrisy—all came shuddering through Adam and Eve’s bloodstreams for the first time in their lives. Like ice water. And both of them ran. And hid. And hoped to God they’d somehow gotten away with it. ~ Matt Chandler,
1355:Chikako and Ben's lives are inexorably linked linked to an ever-expanding list of seasonal tasks. In summer, they work through the garden bounty, drying and pickling the fruits and vegetables at peak ripeness. Fall brings chestnuts to pick, chili paste to make, mushrooms to hunt. Come winter, Noto's seas are flush with the finest sea creatures, which means pickling fish for hinezushi and salting squid guts for ishiri. In the spring, after picking mountain vegetables and harvesting seaweed, they plant the garden and begin the cycle that will feed them, their family, and their guests in the year ahead. ~ Matt Goulding,
1356:The Dew
Into the garden quietly came the dew
last night. It had sad news to tell.
Throughout the night it said
what every priest in mosque and temple says,
into the flower’s ear whispering as it wept:
“Mortal is the world,
evanescent its laughter and its joys.
With a cry we come, with a wail we go.”
The morning sun came up,
mind’s mistiness cleared and eyes did see around.
The dew—it shrank with fear,
the dark night’s messenger had fled.
The flowers laughed, the buds—
they clapped for joy and burst into bloom.
[Translated from the Kashmiri by J. L. Koul]
~ Amin Kamil,
1357:Darzee’s Chant (Sung in honor of Rikki-tikki-tavi) Singer and tailor am I– Doubled the joys that I know– Proud of my lilt to the sky, Proud of the house that I sew– Over and under, so weave I my music–so weave I the house that I sew. Sing to your fledglings again, Mother, oh lift up your head! Evil that plagued us is slain, Death in the garden lies dead. Terror that hid in the roses is impotent–flung on the dung-hill and dead! Who has delivered us, who? Tell me his nest and his name. Rikki, the valiant, the true, Tikki, with eyeballs of flame, Rikk-tikki-tikki, the ivory-fanged, the hunter with eyeballs of flame! ~ Rudyard Kipling,
1358:In a room as big as loneliness
my heart which is as big as love
looks at the simple pretexts of its happiness
at the beautiful decay of flowers in the vase
at the saplings you planted in our garden
and the song of canaries
which sing to the size of a window.

Ah…this is my lot
this is my lot
my lot is a sky that is taken away
at the drop of a curtain
my lot is going down a flight of disused stairs
to regain something amid putrefaction and nostalgia
my lot is a sad promenade in the garden of memories
and dying in the grief of a voice which tells me I love your hands. ~ Forough Farrokhzad,
1359:Jim Crow repeated the old strategies of the reptilian powers of the air: to convince human beings simultaneously and paradoxically that they are gods and animals. In the Garden, after all, the snake approached God's image-bearer, directing her as though he had dominion over her (when it was, in fact, the other way around). He treated her as an animal, and she didn't even see it. At the same time, the old dragon appealed to her to transcend the limits of her dignity. If she would reach for the forbidden, she would be "like God, knowing good and evil." He suggested that she was more than a human; she was a goddess. ~ Russell D Moore,
1360:In The Garden At Swainston
NIGHTINGALES warbled without,
Within was weeping for thee:
Shadows of three dead men
Walk'd in the walks with me:
Shadows of three dead men, and thou wast one of the three.
Nightingales sang in the woods:
The Master was far away:
Nightingales warbled and sang
Of a passion that lasts but a day;
Still in the house in his coffin the Prince of courtesy lay.
Two dead men have I known
In courtesy like to thee:
Two dead men have I loved
With a love that ever will be:
Three dead men have I loved, and thou art last of the three.
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
1361:The Garden Of Shadow
Love heeds no more the sighing of the wind
Against the perfect flowers: thy garden's close
Is grown a wilderness, where none shall find
One strayed, last petal of one last year's rose.
O bright, bright hair! O mouth like a ripe fruit!
Can famine be so nigh to harvesting?
Love, that was songful, with a broken lute
In grass of graveyards goeth murmuring.
Let the wind blow against the perfect flowers,
And all thy garden change and glow with spring:
Love is grown blind with no more count of hours
Nor part in seed-time nor in harvesting.
~ Ernest Christopher Dowson,
1362:A mystical experience—and by this I mean to include those experiences of spiritual release and transcendence (in nature, in prayer, in art, etc.) that are available to every single person who will prepare himself for and accept them—does not simply result in action; its reality is confirmed only within action. In the Garden of Gethsemane, the night before his death, Jesus is said to have prayed so hard that he sweated blood—a metaphor, I take it, but in any event a suggestion that his experience of God at that moment was what we would call mystical (it’s not all harp music and happy rapture, this brush with Beyond). ~ Christian Wiman,
1363:My hope is that the white and the black will be united in perfect love and fellowship, with complete unity and brotherhood. Associate with each other, think of each other, and be like a rose garden. Anyone who goes into a rose garden will see various roses, white, pink, yellow, red, all growing together and replete with adornment. Each one accentuates the beauty of the other. Were all of one color, the garden would be monotonous to the eye. If they were all white or yellow or red, the garden would lack variety and attractiveness; but when the colors are varied, white, pink, yellow, red, there will be the greatest beauty. ~ Abdu l Bah,
1364:BEHOLD: IN THE BEGINNING there was everything, just as there is now. The giant slap of a thunderclap and, bang, it’s raining talking snakes. A greater light to rule the day, a lesser light to rule the night, swarming water and restless air. A man goes down on two knees, a woman opens her thighs, and both hold their breath to listen. Imagining God’s footsteps could be heard in the cool of the day. But God walks silently along the bank of the muddy river that flows out of the Garden, the river that divides and becomes many: Usa, Kolva, Yug, Onega. Narva, Obsha, Luga, Okhta. Volycha, Sestra, Uver, Oyat. Volga, Kama, Neva, Ob. ~ Anonymous,
1365:As soon as he had disappeared Deborah made for the trees fringing the lawn, and once in the shrouded wood felt herself safe.

She walked softly along the alleyway to the pool. The late sun sent shafts of light between the trees and onto the alleyway, and a myriad insects webbed their way in the beams, ascending and descending like angels on Jacob's ladder. But were they insects, wondered Deborah, or particles of dust, or even split fragments of light itself, beaten out and scattered by the sun?

It was very quiet. The woods were made for secrecy. They did not recognise her as the garden did. ("The Pool") ~ Daphne du Maurier,
1366:This is the time of tension between dying and birth
The place of solitude where three dreams cross
Between blue rocks
But when the voices shaken from the yew-tree drift away
Let the other yew be shaken and reply.
Blessèd sister, holy mother, spirit of the fountain, spirit of the garden,
Suffer us not to mock ourselves with falsehood
Teach us to care and not to care
Teach us to sit still
Even among these rocks,
Our peace in His will
And even among these rocks
Sister, mother
And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea,
Suffer me not to be separated

And let my cry come unto Thee. ~ T S Eliot,
1367:What people thought of the castle was one of the few things about the kingdom Snow could control, and she took pride in the work... even on days when her back began to ache from scrubbing tiles or her hands grew callused from all the pruning she did in the garden. She tried to break up her day between indoor and outdoor activities when the weather allowed it. Today was a fine day, so she hoped to get out to the garden as soon as possible. She wanted to gather flowers to make bouquets for the castle vases. There wouldn't be many who had the opportunity to see the flowers, but at least the servants' day would be brightened. ~ Jen Calonita,
1368:So, Joanie came over with some ice bubble hash--not sure what that means, but it's good--and I freaked her out with some Pink Floyd. She didn't know the early stuff so much.
We went out into the garden with a fairly big-screen laptop, it was warmish, and after we were high and drinking a few beers, I played for her these videos, in this order:

Jugband Blues
Astronomy Domine (2x, once with Syd, once with Dave)
Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun
One of These Days
A Saucerful of Secrets
Echoes
Comfortably Numb

She passed out on the settee and I threw a cover over her. lol ~ Sienna McQuillen,
1369:Sunlight was everywhere, glittering gold off the bright green leaves of the garden. A blackcap, concealed within the foliage of a nearby willow, sang a sweet fanfare and a pair of mallards fought over a particularly juicy snail. The orchestra was rehearsing a dance number and music skimmed across the surface of the lake. How lucky they were to get a day like this one! After weeks of agonizing, of their studying the dawn, of consulting Those Who Ought to Know, the sun had risen, burning off any lingering cloud, just as it should on Midsummer's Eve. The evening would be warm, the breeze light, the party as bewitching as ever. ~ Kate Morton,
1370:The soil is in ferment, O friend Behold the diversity. The soil is the horse, so is the rider The soil chases the soil, and we hear the clanging of soil The soil kills the soil, with weapons of the soil. That soil with more on it, is arrogance The soil is the garden so is its beauty The soil admires the soil in all its wondrous forms After the circle of life is done it returns to the soil Answer the riddle O Bulleh, and take this burden off my head." [bk1sm.gif] -- from Bulleh Shah: The Love-Intoxicated Iconoclast (Mystics of the East series), by J. R. Puri / Tilaka Raja Puri

~ Bulleh Shah, The soil is in ferment, O friend
,
1371:A tulip doesn’t strive to impress anyone. It doesn’t struggle to be different than a rose. It doesn’t have to. It is different. And there’s room in the garden for every flower. You didn’t have to struggle to make your face different than anyone else’s on earth. It just is. You are unique because you were created that way. Look at little children in kindergarten. They’re all different without trying to be. As long as they’re unselfconsciously being themselves, they can’t help but shine. It’s only later, when children are taught to compete, to strive to be better than others, that their natural light becomes distorted. ~ Marianne Williamson,
1372:In the same way that the picturesque designers were always careful to include some reminder of our mortality in their gardens -- a ruin, sometimes even a dead tree -- the act of leaving parts of the garden untended, and calling attention to its margins, seems to undermine any pretense to perfect power or wisdom on the part of the gardener. The margins of our gardens can be tropes too, but figures of irony rather than transcendence -- antidotes, in fact, to our hubris. It may be in the margins of our gardens that we can discover fresh ways to bring our aesthetics and our ethics about the land into some meaningful alignment. ~ Michael Pollan,
1373:Thoreau has been my companion for some days past, it having struck me as
more appropriate to bring him out to a pond than to read him, as was
hitherto my habit, on Sunday mornings in the garden. He is a person who
loves the open air, and will refuse to give you much pleasure if you try
to read him amid the pomp and circumstance of upholstery; but out in the
sun, and especially by this pond, he is delightful, and we spend the
happiest hours together, he making statements, and I either agreeing
heartily, or just laughing and reserving my opinion till I shall have
more ripely considered the thing. ~ Elizabeth von Arnim,
1374:The memory
is the not-quite-living museum of our lives.
Sometimes its doors are insufferably wide open
with black stars in a grey sky, and horses
clattering in and out, our dead animals resting here
and there but often willing to come to life again
to greet us, parents and brothers and sisters sit
at the August table laughing while they eat twelve
fresh vegetables from the garden. Rivers, creeks, lakes
over which birds funnel like massive schools of minnows.
In memory the clocks have drowned themselves, leaving
time to the life spans of trees. The world of our lives
comes unbidden as night. ~ Jim Harrison,
1375:Through the rose garden, the path ran straight ahead to the mass of mauve wisteria, now past its best. At ground level, Ellie could see now that it formed a tunnel leading deeper into the garden, gnarled trunks growing over a long wooden frame that was rotten in places. At the end was a green space the size of a large room, walled by a hedge of clipped myrtle. From all sides white trumpets of datura hung down, smelling faintly of coffee.
"I've never seen such a display," said Ellie.
"My mother planted them many years ago. Moonflowers."
"Also known as devil's trumpet."
"Angel's trumpet, too. Or so she told me. ~ Deborah Lawrenson,
1376:I seen but little of this world,
Except my corner of it;
The city never drew me,
For I knew I could not love it.

What I loved best was watching
The garden getting ripe
And a pouch of sweet tobacco
And my old cob pipe.

What I loved best was a harvest moon
Before a frosty morn
And lamplight in the barn lot
And them long, straight rows of corn.

I was plain and country;
That's where it starts and ends,
But nobody loved her family more,
Or treasured more her friends.

I loved the changing seasons,
And looking for life's reasons,
And honey in the comb,
and home. ~ Richard Peck,
1377:Literature is the great garden that is always there and is open to everyone 24 hours a day. Who tends it? The old tour guides and sylviculturists, the wardens, the fuming parkies in their sweat-soaked serge: these have died off. If you do see an official, a professional, these days, then he's likely to be a scowl in a labcoat, come to flatten a forest or decapitate a peak. The public wanders, with its oohs and ahs, its groans and jeers, its million opinions. The wanderers feed the animals, they walk on the grass, they step in the flowerbeds. But the garden never suffers. It is, of course, Eden; it is unfallen and needs no care. ~ Martin Amis,
1378:Do you remember the rabbits? I ask, keeping her. A short, thick-sounding No. Luca used to be a good liar.
You must! There were dozens. He'd buy them as presents-
I don't remember, she says, turning away, Understand me, Dolores, I don't remember One Single Thing.
The rain and the cage and Luca standing in the garden, denying everything. The heaving in me comes out as a shout.
Well I do! You and Rose, locking me in there. Shame on you, Luca!
She faces me. In the twilight, her own sickness shines like a jewel. Luca closes her eyes; she's tired of not remembering.
Dol, we were letting you out, she says. ~ Trezza Azzopardi,
1379:The biblical narrative begins and ends at home. From the Garden of Eden to the New Jerusalem we are hardwired for place and for permanence, for rest and refuge, for presence and protection. We long for home because welcome was our first gift of grace and it will be our last. The settings of our first home and our last home will testify to the nature of the embodied story God is writing in human history. Because God's story begins in a garden and ends in a city, place isn't incidental to Christian hope, just as our bodies aren't incidental to salvation. God will resurrect our bodies, and he will -- finally -- bring us home. ~ Jen Pollock Michel,
1380:They held so tightly together because the only thing they had in the whole wide world was each other. True, they had El Shaddai, but even El Shaddai himself had said that he was not enough for their need for community. Humans needed each other. When Adam was without sin and with El Shaddai in the Garden, they walked in perfect communion. But even in that perfect pastoral paradise, El Shaddai had said, “It is not good for man to be alone.” One would think that El Shaddai would not consider the man to be alone if he was with his Creator. But he did. And that is why he made the woman out of his side, to be his helper, equal to him. ~ Brian Godawa,
1381:When night fell, Kestrel tried the garden door. Arin’s garden was as bare as hers, the walls as smooth. His sunroom was dark, but the hallway that led from it to the rest of the suite was a glowing tunnel.
Somewhere in the layers and shapes of illuminated rooms, a long shadow moved.
Arin, awake.
She slipped back inside her garden and locked the door.
The shaking that had consumed her earlier--after--returned. It was deep inside this time. Even if she had stepped into the garden with the thought of escape, when she saw Arin’s shadow she knew that she had really come for his company.
She couldn’t bear to be alone. ~ Marie Rutkoski,
1382:The education and training of children is among the most meritorious acts of humankind and draweth down the grace and favour of the All-Merciful, for education is the indispensable foundation of all human excellence and alloweth man to work his way to the heights of abiding glory. If a child be trained from his infancy, he will, through the loving care of the Holy Gardener, drink in the crystal waters of the spirit and of knowledge, like a young tree amid the rilling brooks. And certainly he will gather to himself the bright rays of the Sun of Truth, and through its light and heat will grow ever fresh and fair in the garden of life. ~ Abdu l Bah,
1383:When afterwards I tried to tell my aunt, she punished me again for my wicked persistence. Then, as I said, everyone was forbidden to listen to me, to hear a word about it. Even my fairy-tale books were taken away from me for a time - because I was too 'imaginative'. Eh! Yes, they did that! My father belonged to the old school.... And my story was driven back upon myself. I whispered it to my pillow - my pillow that was often damp and salt to my whispering lips with childish tears. And I added always to my official and less fervent prayers this one heartfelt request: 'Please God I may dream of the garden. O! take me back to my garden. ~ H G Wells,
1384:Huge tureens of puréed chestnut soup with truffles were carried in and served to each guest, filling the air with a rich earthy small. Then the servants brought in ballotine of pheasant, served with cold lobster in aspic and deep-sea oysters brought up the river by boat that morning. Our own foie gras on tiny rounds of bread was followed by 'margret de canard,' the breast meat of force-fed ducks, roasted with small home-grown pears and Armagnac. There was a white-bean cassoulet with wild hare, a haunch of venison cooked in cinnamon and wine, eel pie, and a salad of leaves and flowers from the garden, dressed in olive oil and lemon. ~ Kate Forsyth,
1385:The voices of self-reliance are many and deceptive. In some way, they greet you every day. Their deceptive whispers started in the garden and continue with the sole devious purpose of convincing you to rely on yourself and not on God. The lie of self-sufficiency is attractive to us all because we don’t like to think of ourselves as weak and needy. We don’t like to think of ourselves as dependent. We don’t like to think of ourselves as fools who need to be rescued from ourselves. We like the story of the self-made man; you know, the person who pulled himself out of the mire and made it on his own with no one to thank but himself. ~ Paul David Tripp,
1386:Song V
THE sunshine of your presence lies
On the glad garden of my heart
And bids the leaves of silence part
To show the flowers to your dear eyes,
And flower on flower blooms there and dies
And still new buds awakened spring,
For sunshine makes the garden wise,
To know the time for blossoming.
Night is no time for blossoming,
Your garden then dreams otherwise,
Of vanished Summer, vanished Spring,
And how the dearest flower first dies.
Yet from your ministering eyes
Though night hath drawn me far apart
On the still garden of my heart
The moonlight of your memory lies.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1387:The word absurdity is coming to life under my pen; a little while ago, in the garden, I couldn't find it,
but neither was I looking for it, I didn't need it: I thought without words, on things, with things.
Absurdity was not an idea in my head, or the sound of a voice, only this long serpent dead at my feet,
this wooden serpent. Serpent or claw or root or vulture's talon, what difference does it make. And
without formulating anything clearly, I understood that I had found the key to Existence, the key to my
Nauseas, to my own life. In fact, all that I could grasp beyond that returns to this fundamental
absurdity. ~ Jean Paul Sartre,
1388:We’re all assigned a piece of the garden, a corner of the universe that is ours to transform. Our corner of the universe is our own life—our relationships, our homes, our work, our current circumstances—exactly as they are. Every situation we find ourselves in is an opportunity, perfectly planned by the Holy Spirit, to teach love instead of fear. Whatever energy system we find ourselves a part of, it’s our job to heal it—to purify the thought forms by purifying our own. It’s never really a circumstance that needs to change—it’s we who need to change. The prayer isn’t for God to change our lives, but rather for Him to change us. ~ Marianne Williamson,
1389:The day, with all its pain ahead, is yours.
The ceaseless creasing of the morning sea,
the fluttering gamboge cedar leaves allegro,
the rods of the yawning branches trolling the breeze,
the rusted meadows, the wind-whitened grass,
the coos of the stone-colored ground doves on the road,
the echo of benediction on a house –
its rooms of pain, its verandah of remorse
when joy lanced through its open-hearted doors
like a hummingbird out to the garden and the pool
in which the sky has fallen. These are all yours,
and pain has made them brighter as absence does
after a death, as the light heals the grass. ~ Derek Walcott,
1390:Don’t you see? Everything’s different now. I’m different now. I’m not that dashing, immortal youth who kissed you in the garden all those years ago.”
She stroked his cheek. “I’m not the giddy, moonstruck girl you kissed. I’m a woman now, with my own fears and desires. And a heart that’s grown stronger than you’d credit. Strong enough to contain four years’ worth of love.”
He cleared his throat and studied the wood paneling. The whorls of grain twisted and churned as he blinked. “You should have saved it for someone else.”
“I’ve never wanted anyone else.” She tugged on his chin until he met her gaze. “Luke. Fight for me. ~ Tessa Dare,
1391:The Withered Rose
O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?
Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name
The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence
My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow
You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream
Like a flute to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
1392:Well, someone asks, how can we be sure God is trustworthy? The answer is that this is the one part of the Lord’s Prayer Jesus himself prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, under circumstances far more crushing than any of us will ever face. He submitted to his Father’s will rather than following his own desires, and it saved us. That’s why we can trust him. Jesus is not asking us to do anything for him that he hasn’t already done for us, under conditions of difficulty beyond our comprehension. Luther adds, following Augustine, that without this trust in God, we will try to take God’s place and seek revenge on those who have harmed us.203 ~ Timothy J Keller,
1393:O lower self, which is better, the Garden of eternity or a glimpse of this world's unlawful bounty and its wretched, fleeting rubbish? You are capable of obtaining that permanent blessing in exchange for your worshipful obedience, so do not be mean in your aspiration, vile in your intention, and base in your deeds. Look at the doves when they fly aloft, and see how their worth ascends and their value increases! You must raise all your aspiration heavenwards. You must not waste what you have gained by your worshipful obedience.

You must therefore pay close attention, O miserable wretch, and beware of being among the deprived. ~ Abu Hamid al-Ghazali,
1394:Alone
THE lilies clustered fair and tall;
I stood outside the garden wall;
I saw her light robe glimmering through
The fragrant evening's dusk and dew.
She stopped above the lilies pale;
Up the clear east the moon did sail;
I saw her bend her lovely head
O'er her rich roses blushing red.
Her slender hand the flowers caressed,
Her touch the unconscious blossoms blessed;
The rose against her perfumed palm
Leaned its soft cheek in blissful calm.
I would have given my soul to be
That rose she touched so tenderly!
I stood alone, outside the gate,
And knew that life was desolate.
~ Celia Thaxter,
1395:Hope knew that her thinking regarding books went contrary to the general sentiment of the people of Eden. Books were seen as a waste of time. What was the point, unless you were reading for information? To lose oneself in a book was to be slightly wacky, a little greedy, and ultimately slothful. There was no value. You couldn't make money from reading a book. A book did not give you clean bathrooms and waxed floors. It did not put the garden in. You couldn't have a conversation while reading. It was arrogant and alienated others. In short, those who read were wasteful and haughty and incapable of living in the real world. They were dreamers. ~ David Bergen,
1396:As Adam lost the heritage of union with God in a garden, so now Our Blessed Lord ushered in its restoration in a garden. Eden and Gethsemane were the two gardens around which revolved the fate of humanity. In Eden, Adam sinned; in Gethsemane, Christ took humanity's sin upon Himself. In Eden, Adam hid himself from God; in Gethsemane, Christ interceded with His Father; in Eden, God sought out Adam in his sin of rebellion; in Gethsemane, the New Adam sought out the Father and His submission and resignation. In Eden, a sword was drawn to prevent entrance into the garden and thus immortalizing of evil; in Gethsemane, the sword would be sheathed. ~ Fulton J Sheen,
1397:Jesus used small things to describe his kingdom: a sprinkling of yeast that causes the whole loaf to rise, a pinch of salt that preserves a slab of meat, the smallest seed in the garden that grows into a great bush in which the birds of the air come to nest. Practices that used to be common—human sacrifice, slavery, duels to the death, child labor, exploitation of women, racial apartheid, debtors’ prisons, the killing of the elderly and incurably ill—have been banned, in large part because of a gospel stream running through cultures influenced by the Christian faith. Once salted and yeasted, society is difficult to un-salt and un-yeast. Many ~ Philip Yancey,
1398:As far as Dev was concerned, the moon was no big deal. Had it not been around, he’d have used flashlights or the garden lights or run the generator. It was convenient, was all—not a sign from God. As far as Lucy’s lesser claim that it was romantic, he’d just have to take her neurotypical word for it. Not that he did so without challenging it, starting with, “You mean the moon?” Lucy nodded during the latest sweaty calm between contractions. “It’s just a rock with sunlight bouncing off it . . .” “So why are you always looking at it with your telescope?” “Because it’s a rock with sunlight bouncing off of it,” Dev said calmly, “in outer space. ~ David Sosnowski,
1399:I have lived my life in the shelter of too many northern alliances. I have made alliance with the gentle cow, the health department, the local policeman. In the shelter of such alliances I have got out of bed in the morning with moderate assurance that I shall still be alive at bedtime. But south of the moon my allies vanish, and I have an emptiness in my stomach. I fear the cobras in the garden. I lack a treaty with the lioness. I dread the crocodiles of Lake Victoria, the tsetse fly in the Tanganyika bush, the little airplane with the funny engine, and the mosquito in the soft evening air. But most of all, I am afraid of the African street. ~ Robert Ardrey,
1400:But why didn't Gram tell us our mother wore a perfume that smelled like sunshine? That she slept in the garden in the springtime? That she made pesto with walnuts? why did she keep this real-life mother from us? But as soon as I ask the question, I know the answer, because suddenly there is not blood pumping in my veins, coursing all throughout my body, but longing for a mother who loves lilacs. Longing like I've never had for the Paige walker who wanders that world. That Paige Walker never made me feel like a daughter, but a mother who boils water for pasta does. Except don't you need to be claimed to be a daughter? Don't you need to be loved? ~ Jandy Nelson,
1401:Ebenezer Howard’s vision of the Garden City would seem almost feudal to us. He seems to have thought that members of the industrial working classes would stay neatly in their class, and even at the same job within their class; that agricultural workers would stay in agriculture; that businessmen (the enemy) would hardly exist as a significant force in his Utopia; and that planners could go about their good and lofty work, unhampered by rude nay-saying from the untrained. It was the very fluidity of the new nineteenth-century industrial and metropolitan society, with its profound shiftings of power, people and money, that agitated Howard so deeply ~ Jane Jacobs,
1402:It was the rust of routine, which he had despised and feared so much, but which had protected him from an awareness of his age. However, one Sunday in December, when the rosebushes on the tombs had already defeated the garden shears, he saw the swallows on the recently installed electric wires and he suddenly realized how much time had gone by since the death of his mother, and how much since the murder of Olimpia Zuleta, and how very much since that other distant December afternoon when Fermina Daza sent him a letter saying yes, she would love him always. Until then he had behaved as if time would not pass for him but only for others. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
1403:Fifty-five thousand, five hundred and seventy-three dead from Bomber Command. Seven million German dead, including the five hundred thousand killed by the Allied bombing campaign. The sixty million dead overall of the Second World War, including eleven million murdered in the Holocaust. The sixteen million of the First World War, over four million in Vietnam, forty million to the Mongol conquests, three and a half million to the Hundred Years War, the fall of Rome took seven million, the Napoleonic Wars took four million, twenty million to the Taiping Rebellion. And so on and so on and so on, all the way back to the Garden when Cain killed Abel. ~ Kate Atkinson,
1404:The closer men came to perfecting for themselves a paradise, the more impatient they became with it, and with themselves as well. They made a garden of pleasure, and became progressively more miserable with it as it grew in richness and power and beauty; for then, perhaps, it was easier to see something was missing in the garden, some tree or shrub that would not grow. When the world was in darkness and wretchedness, it could believe in perfection and yearn for it. But when the world became bright with reason and riches, it began to sense the narrowness of the needle's eye, and that rankled for a world no longer willing to believe or yearn. ~ Walter M Miller Jr,
1405:Brandon
THE house is empty, and the garden alley,
A shadowed aisle of linden and of yew,
A marble vase, a glimpse of river-valley ­
Translucent white against transparent blue A mystery of boxwood and of byway,
Beneath barred windows and unopened door,
And far below the river like a highway
Sweeps on, but brings no travelers any more.
Beauty alone is constant; where she chooses
A dwelling-place, there would she ever stay;
Fortune and friends and fashion though it loses,
Beauty more faithful does not pass away,
But most deserted, most herself she seems
Left to her deep and solitary dreams.
~ Alice Duer Miller,
1406:Here I discovered water — a very different element from the green crawling scum that stank in the garden tub. You could pump it in pure blue gulps out of the ground, you could swing on the pump handle and it came out sparkling like liquid sky. And it broke and ran and shone on the tiled floor, or quivered in a jug, or weighted your clothes with cold. You could drink it, draw with it, froth it with soap, swim beetles across it, or fly it in bubbles in the air. You could put your head in it, and open your eyes, and see the sides of the bucket buckle, and hear your caught breath roar, and work your mouth like a fish, and smell the lime from the ground. ~ Laurie Lee,
1407:What about you, Neville?” said Ron. “Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” said Neville, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me — he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned — but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced — all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. ~ J K Rowling,
1408:It was my first clue that atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith. Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them - and then they leap. I'll be honest about it. It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for awhile. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation. ~ Yann Martel,
1409:Perhaps everybody has a garden of Eden, I don't know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare. ~ James Baldwin,
1410:Perhaps everybody has a garden of Eden, I don’t know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strength to remember, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare. ~ James Baldwin,
1411:The Christians say that God has hands, a mouth, and a voice; they are always proclaiming that 'God said this' or 'God spoke'. 'The heavens declare the work of his hands,' they say. I can only comment that such a God is no God at all, for God has neither hands, mouth nor voice, nor any characteristics of which we know. Their absurd doctrines even contain reference to God walking about in the garden he created for man; and they speak of him being angry, jealous, moved to repentance, sorry, sleepy — in short as being in every respect more a man than a God.[112] Further, for all their exclusiveness about the highest God, do not the Jews also worship angels?[ ~ Tim Freke,
1412:English version by Suzanne Noffke, O.P. We were enclosed, O eternal Father, within the garden of your breast. You drew us out of your holy mind like a flower petaled with our soul's three powers, and into each power you put the whole plant, so that they might bear fruit in your garden, might come back to you with the fruit you gave them. And you would come back to the soul, to fill her with your blessedness. There the soul dwells -- like the fish in the sea and the sea in the fish. [1469.jpg] -- from Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women, Edited by Jane Hirshfield

~ Catherine of Siena, We were enclosed (from Prayer 20)
,
1413:In The Rose Garden
RED roses bright, pink roses and white
That bud and blossom and fall;
The very sight of my heart's delight
Is more than worth them all!
Is worth far more than the whole sweet store
That ever a garden grew-She plucked the best to die at her breast,
But it laughed and it bloomed anew!
The red rose lay at her lips to-day,
And flushed with the joy thereof;
She said a word that the white rose heard,
And the white rose paled with love.
But the west wind blows, and my lady goes,
And she leaves the world forlorn;
And every rose that the garden grows,
Might just as well be a thorn!
~ Edith Nesbit,
1414:Last night in the garden I offered you my youth's foaming wine. You
lifted the cup to your lips, you shut your eyes and smiled while
I raised your veil, unbound your tresses, drawing down upon my
breast your face sweet with its silence, last night when the moon's
dream overflowed the world of slumber.
  To-day in the dew-cooled calm of the dawn you are walking to
God's temple, bathed and robed in white, with a basketful of
flowers in your hand. I stand aside in the shade under the tree,
with my head bent, in the calm of the dawn by the lonely road to
the temple.

~ Rabindranath Tagore, Lovers Gifts XIII - Last Night In The Garden
,
1415:The trees around and overhead were so thick that it was always dry inside and on Sunday morning I lay there with Jonas, listening to his stories. All cat stories start with the statement: "My mother, who was the first cat, told me this," and I lay with my head close to Jonas and listened. There was no change coming, I thought here, only spring; I was wrong to be so frightened. The days would get warmer, and Uncle Julian would sit in the sun, and Constance would laugh when she worked in the garden, and it would always be the same. Jonas went on and on ("And then we sang! And then we sang!") and the leaves moved overhead and it would always be the same. ~ Shirley Jackson,
1416:A mind that is seeking is not a passionate mind and to come upon love without seeking it is the only way to find it – to come upon it unknowingly and not as the result of any effort or experience. Such a love, you will find, is not of time; such a love is both personal and impersonal, is both the one and the many. Like a flower that has perfume you can smell it or pass it by. That flower is for everybody and for the one who takes trouble to breathe it deeply and look at it with delight. Whether one is very near in the garden, or very far away, it is the same to the flower because it is full of that perfume and therefore it is sharing with everybody. ~ Jiddu Krishnamurti,
1417:Old Jiko is supercareful with her time. She does everything really really slowly, even when she’s just sitting on the veranda, looking out at the dragonflies spinning lazily around the garden pond. She says that she does everything really really slowly in order to spread time out so that she’ll have more of it and live longer, and then she laughs so you know she is telling you a joke. I mean, she understands perfectly well that time isn’t something you can spread out like butter or jam, and death isn’t going to hang around and wait for you to finish whatever you happen to be doing before it zaps you. That’s the joke, and she laughs because she knows it. But ~ Ruth Ozeki,
1418:The Garden

I

You are clear
O rose, cut in rock,
hard as the descent of hail.

I could scrape the colour
from the petals
like spilt dye from a rock.

If I could break you
I could break a tree.

If I could stir
I could break a tree—
I could break you.


II

O wind, rend open the heat,
cut apart the heat,
rend it to tatters.

Fruit cannot drop
through this thick air—
fruit cannot fall into heat
that presses up and blunts
the points of pears
and rounds the grapes.

Cut the heat—
plough through it,
turning it on either side
of your path. ~ H D,
1419:The Garden
CHOKED with ill weeds my garden lay a-dying,
Hard was the ground, no bud had heart to blow,
Yet shone your smile there, with your soft breath sighing:
'Have patience, for some day the flowers will grow.'
Some weeds you killed, you made a plot and tilled it;
'My plot,' you said, 'rich harvest yet shall give,'
With sun-warmed seeds of hope your dear hands filled it,
With rain-soft tears of pity bade them live.
So, weak among the weeds that had withstood you,
One little pure white flower grew by-and-by;
You could not pluck my flower--alas! how should you?
You sowed the seed, but let the blossom die.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1420:The Garden
There is a fenceless garden overgrown
With buds and blossoms and all sorts of leaves;
And once, among the roses and the sheaves,
The Gardener and I were there alone.
He led me to the plot where I had thrown
The fennel of my days on wasted ground,
And in that riot of sad weeds I found
The fruitage of a life that was my own.
My life! Ah, yes, there was my life, indeed!
And there were all the lives of humankind;
And they were like a book that I could read,
Whose every leaf, miraculously signed,
Outrolled itself from Thought’s eternal seed.
Love-rooted in God’s garden of the mind.
~ Edwin Arlington Robinson,
1421:As parents told their sons and daughters this story of the Garden, eventually the children would ask about the man and the woman standing there, awkward and embarrassed in their fig leaves. What happened to them? The parents answered, “The LORD God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.” (Gen 3:21) The blood of the innocent was shed to cover the shame of the guilty. It wasn’t the man or the woman who shed this blood to make these coverings. This was the work of the Lord. And by the blood of the calf or the lamb, the man and woman would come out of hiding and stand again before their God. And this was only the beginning of the story. ~ Russ Ramsey,
1422:From the very beginning, before times long past, I was stored among His hidden treasures. He had brought me forth from Nothing, but at the end of time I shall be summoned back before the King. My life flowed out of the depth of the spheres which gave me form and order. Divine forces shaped me to be treasured in the chambers of the King. Then He shined his light to bring me forth in hidden well-springs, on the left and on the right. He made me descend the steps leading down from the Pool of Shelah to the garden of the King. [1835.jpg] -- from The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse, Edited by T. Carmi

~ Nachmanides, The Soul Speaks (from Hymn on the Fate of the Soul)
,
1423:Here, in the garden at night, it is another world, strange and yet friendly and familiar, never frightening. There is such quietness, such sweetness, such refreshment.

Close your eyes. Breathe in again, smell everything mingled together, flowers and earth and leaves and grass. Smell the night.

Listen. Nothing at all. Silence, rushing like the sea in your ears.

However small and sparse the garden, and wherever it is, even inside a great city, if something grows there, it is a magic place by night.

Leave it, walk quietly back towards the lights that shine out of the house. You will take its magic with you.

Now, you will sleep. ~ Susan Hill,
1424:Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ She ate a little bit, and said anxiously to herself, ‘Which way? Which way?’, holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way it was growing, and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats cake, but Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way. ~ Lewis Carroll,
1425:Think of this – that the writer wrote alone, and the reader read alone, and they were alone with each other. True, the writer may have been alone also with Spenser's golden apples in the Faerie Queene, Proserpina's garden, glistening bright among the place's ashes and cinders, may have seen in his mind's eye, apple of his eye, the golden fruit of the Primavera, may have seen Paradise Lost, in the garden where Eve recalled Pomona and Proserpina. He was alone when he wrote and he was not alone then, all these voices sang, the same words, golden apples, different words in different places, an Irish castle, un unseen cottage, elastic-walled and grey round blind eyes. ~ A S Byatt,
1426:Here I am in the garden laughing
an old woman with heavy breasts
and a nicely mapped face


how did this happen
well that's who I wanted to be


at last a woman
in the old style sitting
stout thighs apart under
a big skirt grandchild sliding
on off my lap a pleasant
summer perspiration


that's my old man across the yard
he's talking to the meter reader
he's telling him the world's sad story
how electricity is oil or uranium
and so forth I tell my grandson
run over to your grandpa ask him
to sit beside me for a minute I
am suddenly exhausted by my desire
to kiss his sweet explaining lips. ~ Grace Paley,
1427:As we gather around the rough-hewn farm table made by my grandfather, I am reminded that my family has come together for generations in this same way. Summers were always our favorite times; we would eat outdoors under the shade of a tree - hand-rolled pasta with a sauce of fresh tomatoes and basil from the garden, cheese from my Aunt Carmella, olive oil sent by our cousin in Santa Margherita, and wine from our own jugs. After having our fill of food and laughter, we'd pluck ripe figs right off the trees, peel and eat them until the sun disappeared into the blue. I can still taste those summer days, and will always do everything in my power to re-create them. ~ Adriana Trigiani,
1428:It opens, the gate to the garden
with the docility of a page
that frequent devotion questions
and inside, my gaze
has no need to fix on objects
that already exist, exact, in memory.
I know the customs and souls
and that dialect of allusions
that every human gathering goes weaving.
I've no need to speak
nor claim false privilege;
they know me well who surround me here,
know well my afflictions and weakness.
This is to reach the highest thing,
that Heaven perhaps will grant us:
not admiration or victory
but simply to be accepted
as part of an undeniable Reality,
like stones and trees.

~ Jorge Luis Borges, Simplicity
,
1429:The Price Of Joy
You don't begrudge the labor when the roses start to bloom;
You don't recall the dreary days that won you their perfume;
You don't recall a single care
You spent upon the garden there;
And all the toil
Of tilling soil
Is quite forgot the day the first
Pink rosebuds into beauty burst.
You don't begrudge the trials grim when joy has come to you;
You don't recall the dreary days when all your skies are blue;
And though you've trod a weary mile
The ache of it was all worth while;
And all the stings
And bitter flings
Are wiped away upon the day
Success comes dancing down the way.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1430:The resurrection of Jesus is not just a happy ending to the gospel story; it is the dawn of a new creation. No one captures this idea better than G. K. Chesterton in the close of part one of his classic work, The Everlasting Man. On the third day the friends of Christ coming at daybreak to the place found the grave empty and the stone rolled away. In varying ways they realised the new wonder; but even they hardly realised that the world had died in the night. What they were looking at was the first day of a new creation, with a new heaven and a new earth; and in a semblance of the gardener God walked again in the garden, in the cool not of the evening but the dawn. ~ Brian Zahnd,
1431:Come And Play In The Garden
LITTLE sister, come away,
And let us in the garden play,
For it is a pleasant day.
On the grass-plat let us sit,
Or, if you please, we'll play a bit,
And run about all over it.
But the fruit we will not pick,
For that would be a naughty trick,
And very likely make us sick.
Nor will we pluck the pretty flowers
That grow about the beds and bowers,
Because you know they are not ours.
We'll take the daisies, white and red,
Because mamma has often said
That we may gather then instead.
And much I hope we always may
Our very dear mamma obey,
And mind whatever she may say.
~ Ann Taylor,
1432:It was ironic, really - you want to die because you can't be bothered to go on living - but then you're expected to get all energetic and move furniture and stand on chairs and hoist ropes and do complicated knots and attach things to other things and kick stools from under you and mess around with hot baths and razor blades and extension cords and electrical appliances and weedkiller. Suicide was a complicated, demanding business, often involving visits to hardware shops.

And if you've managed to drag yourself from the bed and go down the road to the garden center or the drug store, by then the worst is over. At that point you might as well just go to work. ~ Marian Keyes,
1433:AN EMPTY GARLIC

"You miss the garden,
because you want a small fig from a random tree.
You don't meet the beautiful woman. You're joking with an old crone.
It makes me want to cry how she detains you,
stinking mouthed, with a hundred talons,
putting her head over the roof edge to call down,
tasteless fig, fold over fold, empty
as dry-rotten garlic.

She has you tight by the belt,
even though there's no flower and no milk inside her body.

Death will open your eyes
to what her face is: leather spine
of a black lizard. No more advice.

Let yourself be silently drawn
by the stronger pull of what you really love. ~ Rumi,
1434:The air is heavy, sweet with perfume, stirred only by a scratchy music that soars and glides and stuns itself against the walls. Large leaded windows look out over the garden at the rear of the house, gray clouds piling up beyond a cupola. Chairs and chaise longues have been gathered around the fire, young women draped over them like wilted orchids, smoking cigarettes and clinging to their drinks. The mood in the room is one of restless agitation rather than celebration. About the only sign of life comes from an oil painting on the far wall, where an old woman with coals for eyes sits in judgment of the room, her expression conveying her distaste for this gathering. ~ Stuart Turton,
1435:We went far down the garden to the farthest end, where the children and the nurse and the puppy and I used to play in the summer in the shade of a great elm, and there the footman dug a hole, and I saw he was going to plant the puppy, and I was glad, because it would grow and come up a fine handsome dog, like Robin Adair, and be a beautiful surprise for the family when they came home; so I tried to help him dig, but my lame leg was no good, being stiff, you know, and you have to have two, or it is no use. When the footman had finished and covered little Robin up, he patted my head, and there were tears in his eyes, and he said: "Poor little doggie, you saved HIS child! ~ Mark Twain,
1436:rumors. I’ll not say more on the subject. Cheese in your eggs?” “Yes, please.” * * * With Kendra gone, Seth got out the equipment he had bundled in his towel, including his emergency kit and the jar he had smuggled from the pantry. The jar was now empty, washed clean in the bathroom sink. Taking out his pocket knife, Seth used the awl to punch holes in the lid. Unscrewing the top, he gathered bits of grass, flower petals, a twig, and a pebble, and placed them in the jar. Then he wandered across the garden from the pool, leaving the skimmer behind. If skill failed, he would resort to cunning. He found a good spot not far from a fountain, then took the small mirror from his ~ Brandon Mull,
1437:I HAVE heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees
Hum in the lime-tree flowers; and put away
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile
Tara uprooted, and new commonness
Upon the throne and crying about the streets
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post,
Because it is alone of all things happy.
I am contented, for I know that Quiet
Wanders laughing and eating her wild heart
Among pigeons and bees, while that Great Archer,
Who but awaits His hour to shoot, still hangs
A cloudy quiver over Pairc-na-lee.

~ William Butler Yeats, In The Seven Woods
,
1438:The problem with us is, if we are growing a garden, we are always trying to focus on the flower and the fruit. It is not the flower and the fruit that you should focus on; it is the root that you need to focus on. Rather than nurturing the roots, you are constantly seeking the flower and fruit. You do not have to sit there and pray for flowers and fruits. If you nurture the root, the flowers will anyway fall on your head, even if you do not look for them.
The flower and fruit will not come if you do not nurture the roots. You can only dream about it. But if you nurture the root, flowers and fruits will anyway happen. That is so with the garden, and that is so with your life. ~ Sadhguru,
1439:And as I ran along the shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet and maddened ever by the fear of unknown things and the lure of the dead faces, I saw that the garden had no end under that moon; for where by day the walls were, there stretched now only new vistas of trees and paths, flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and bendings of the yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. And the lips of the dead lotos-faces whispered sadly, and bade me follow, nor did I cease my steps till the stream became a river, and joined amidst marshes of swaying reeds and beaches of gleaming sand the shore of a vast and nameless sea. Upon ~ H P Lovecraft,
1440:And as I ran along the shore, crushing sleeping flowers with heedless feet and maddened ever by the fear of unknown things and the lure of the dead faces, I saw that the garden had no end under that moon; for where by day the walls were, there stretched now only new vistas of trees and paths, flowers and shrubs, stone idols and pagodas, and bendings of the yellow-litten stream past grassy banks and under grotesque bridges of marble. And the lips of the dead lotos-faces whispered sadly, and bade me follow, nor did I cease my steps till the stream became a river, and joined amidst marshes of swaying reeds and beaches of gleaming sand the shore of a vast and nameless sea. Upon ~ H P Lovecraft,
1441:In The Garden Vi: A Peach
IF any sense in mortal dust remains
When mine has been refin'd from flower to flower,
Won from the sun all colours, drunk the shower
And delicate winy dews, and gain'd the gains
Which elves who sleep in airy bells, a-swing
Through half a summer day, for love bestow,
Then in some warm old garden let me grow
To such a perfect, lush, ambrosian thing
As this. Upon a southward-facing wall
I bask, and feel my juices dimly fed
And mellowing, while my bloom comes golden grey:
Keep the wasps from me! but before I fall
Pluck me, white fingers, and o'er two ripe-red
Girl lips O let me richly swoon away!
~ Edward Dowden,
1442:Notice how questions like these are grounded in attempts to twist God’s Word. We always need to be careful when someone begins a statement with the words, “Did God really say . . . ?” After all, these are the very words that caused the fall of man in Genesis 3. The deceiving serpent tempted Adam and Eve to question the love of God and doubt the Word of God: “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden?’”[103] Through this question, Satan convinced this couple that God’s love was subject to their own opinion and that God’s Word was subject to their own judgment. He elevated the thoughts of men above the truth of God, and sin made its entrance into the world. ~ David Platt,
1443:Sasha: Men don't understand a lot of things. Every young girl is going to be drawn more to a failure than to a successful man, because they're all attracted by the notion of active love... Do you understand? Active. Men are busy with their work, and therefore for them love is something right in the background. A conversation with the wife, a stroll with her in the garden, a nice time, a cry on her grave - that's all. But for us love is life. I love you, that means that I dream of how I'll cure you of your depression, of how I'll go with you to the ends of the earth...

When you're up, so am I; when you're down, so am I. ... The more work there is, the better love is ... ~ Anton Chekhov,
1444:The next day I got up early and walked through the city. I visited the Musee Rodin. I stopped in a bistro, and with all the fear of a boy approaching a beautiful girl at a party, I ordered two beers and then a burger. I walked to Le Jardin du Luxembourg. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. I took a seat. The garden was busting with people, again in all their alien ways. At that moment a strange loneliness took hold. Perhaps it was that I had not spoken a single word of English that entire day. Perhaps it was that I had never sat in a public garden before, had not even know it to be something I'd want to do. And all around me there were people who did this regularly. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,
1445:The winsome lilt of Digna humming in the garden. Her knowing, almost teasing look, not quite a smile, when she knew she had the upper hand about something, and his willing acquiescence. Her coaxing in the dark next to him - What was your favorite part of the day? - to which he'd always say, because he always thought it - now, touching you. He'd feel the lump of truth form in his throat, the swell of love in his loins. And afterward, the peace of her rhythmic breathing, steady as a Frisian clock, her simple uncomposed lullaby. Those are things he would, in some final, stretched-out moment, relive. How love builds itself unconsciously, he thought, out of the momentous ordinary. ~ Susan Vreeland,
1446:Having a home is good, Sweet is sleep under the home roof By the children, the garden, the dog. But oh, Hardly back from the last journey The far-away tempts you yet again. Homesickness is better, To be alone under the stars with your longing. Rest and ease you can only own When the heart beats easy. But the wanderer bears the brunt of travel. His expectations are always disappointed. Yet the wanderer’s troubles are easier Than peace at home. Only the wise man finds happiness Amid home’s joys and cares. I would rather seek without ever finding Than be tucked and warm and tied to nearness, For in the country of happiness while on this earth, I can never be an owner, only a guest. ~ Hermann Hesse,
1447:Can God take much notice of us poor people? Perhaps he only made the world for the great and the wise and the rich. It doesn’t cost him much to give us our little handful of victual and bit of clothing; but how do we know he cares for us any more than we care for the worms and things in the garden, so as we rear our carrots and onions? Will God take care of us when we die? And has he any comfort for us when we are lame and sick and helpless? Perhaps, too, he is angry with us; else why does the blight come, and the bad harvests, and the fever, and all sorts of pain and trouble? For our life is full of trouble, and if God sends us good, he seems to send bad too. How is it? How is it? ~ George Eliot,
1448:The year was dying early, the leaves were falling fast, it was a raw cold day when we took possession, and the gloom of the house was most depressing. The cook (an amiable woman, but of a weak turn of intellect) burst into tears on beholding the kitchen, and requested that her silver watch might be delivered over to her sister (2 Tuppintock’s Gardens, Liggs’s Walk, Clapham Rise), in the event of anything happening to her from the damp. Streaker, the housemaid, feigned cheerfulness, but was the greater martyr. The Odd Girl, who had never been in the country, alone was pleased, and made arrangements for sowing an acorn in the garden outside the scullery window, and rearing an oak. ~ Charles Dickens,
1449:Sarai,” he said with a hurt voice, “We are a family, you and I. We may not have children, but that does not make us any less a family in the eyes of El Shaddai.” He was right. She realized that by saying such a thing, she was reducing their marriage to a mere tool for having children. When El Shaddai created marriage in the Garden, he said the first priority was oneness. Procreation was second in importance to that union. She had made an idol out of children and negated her husband as her priority. It only made her cry more in repentance. “I am so sorry, my husband. You are my heart and soul. Please forgive me.” “There is nothing to forgive, my beauty pie. You are my heart and soul. ~ Brian Godawa,
1450:Trying to retain his enthusiasm, he led her toward the opening in the overgrown boxwood hedge where a pair of musk rose bushes formed a thorny turnstile, marking the exit from the garden to the fallow fields and woods beyond. They stopped to take deep, lung-filling inhalations of the musk roses' delicious, honeylike perfume. Exclaiming with unaffected joy at the roses' late-blooming beauty, Alice cupped one of the creamy white blossoms gracefully in her gloved hand. He picked one, pulled off the thorns, and offered it to her. She took it in silence, searching his face warily, then turned away and walked on. Lucien just stood there watching her, praying he wouldn't do anything wrong. ~ Gaelen Foley,
1451:All that Delaura noticed, though, was the uproarious crowing of the roosters.
'There are only six of them, but they make enough noise for a hundred,' said the Abbess. 'Furthermore, a pig spoke and a goat gave birth to triplets.' And she added with fervor: 'Everything has been like this since your Bishop did us the favor of sending us his poisoned gift.'
She viewed with equal alarm the garden flowering with so much vigor that it seemed contra natura. As they walked across it she pointed out to Delaura that there were flowers of exceptional size and color, some with an unbearable scent. As far as she was concerned, everything ordinary has something supernatural about it. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
1452:Hope
Hope is with you when you believe
The earth is not a dream but living flesh,
that sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,
That all thing you have ever seen here
Are like a garden looked at from a gate.
You cannot enter. But you're sure it's there.
Could we but look more clearly and wisely
We might discover somewhere in the garden
A strange new flower and an unnamed star.
Some people say that we should not trust our eyes,
That there is nothing, just a seeming,
There are the ones who have no hope.
They think the moment we turn away,
The world, behind our backs, ceases to exist,
As if snatched up by the hand of thieves.
~ Czeslaw Milosz,
1453:Kestrel climbed down and studied the garden in the lamplight thrown from her sunroom. She chewed the inside of her cheek, and was wondering whether books stacked on the chair on top of the table would make a difference when she heard something.
The grate of a heel against pebbles. It came from beyond the door, and the other side of the wall.
Someone had been listening.
Was listening still.
As quietly as she could, Kestrel took the chair down from the table and went inside.


Before Arin left for the mountain pass, during the coldest hours of the night, he found time to order that every piece of furniture light enough for Kestrel to move be taken from her suite. ~ Marie Rutkoski,
1454:1258
Within My Garden, Rides A Bird
500
Within my Garden, rides a Bird
Upon a single Wheel—
Whose spokes a dizzy Music make
As 'twere a travelling Mill—
He never stops, but slackens
Above the Ripest Rose—
Partakes without alighting
And praises as he goes,
Till every spice is tasted—
And then his Fairy Gig
Reels in remoter atmospheres—
And I rejoin my Dog,
And He and I, perplex us
If positive, 'twere we—
Or bore the Garden in the Brain
This Curiosity—
But He, the best Logician,
Refers my clumsy eye—
To just vibrating Blossoms!
An Exquisite Reply!
~ Emily Dickinson,
1455:My father also told me that people had always suffered from being tied to the ground, from not being able to detach themselves from it. But they had dreamed of leaving it, and so they had invented the garden of paradise, which had in it everything they yearned for but lacked in their lives, and they had dreamed up creatures similar to themselves but equipped with wings. But what in the past had only been dreamed of was now beginning to materialize, my father said, pointing to the sky. Angels did not exist, but people could now fly. There was no paradise for human souls to dwell in, but one day I would understand that it was more important for people to live well and happily here on earth. ~ Ivan Kl ma,
1456:The Fruit Garden Path
The path runs straight between the flowering rows,
A moonlit path, hemmed in by beds of bloom,
Where phlox and marigolds dispute for room
With tall, red dahlias and the briar rose.
'T is reckless prodigality which throws
Into the night these wafts of rich perfume
Which sweep across the garden like a plume.
Over the trees a single bright star glows.
Dear garden of my childhood, here my years
Have run away like little grains of sand;
The moments of my life, its hopes and fears
Have all found utterance here, where now I stand;
My eyes ache with the weight of unshed tears,
You are my home, do you not understand?
~ Amy Lowell,
1457:Your mother and I had one conversation a little before she died. She was sitting in the garden one evening when I came home from work, and she said, “I have to confess something. When we played ‘chicken’ from KDA to Clifton and I said I made you run three red lights, I lied. I made you stop even when they were only just turning amber.” And I replied, “Samina, I didn’t love you because you were the girl who ran red lights. I loved you because when you covered my eyes with your hands, I knew I could trust you to get me home.” She was afraid of running red lights, Aasmaani. She wasn’t an unbreakable creature of myth. She was entirely human, entirely breakable, and entirely extraordinary. ~ Kamila Shamsie,
1458:She had dispersed. She was the garden at Prem Nivas (soon to be entered into the annual Flower Show), she was Veena's love of music, Pran's asthma, Maan's generosity, the survival of some refugees four years ago, the neem leaves that would preserve quilts stored in the great zinc trunks of Prem Nivas, the moulting feather of some pond-heron, a small unrung brass bell, the memory of decency in an indecent time, the temperament of Bhaskar's great-grandchildren. Indeed, for all the Minsisster of Revenue's impatience with her, she was his regret.

And it was right that she should continue to be so, for he should have treated her better while she lived, the poor, ignorant, grieving fool. ~ Vikram Seth,
1459:ALL things give token of thee!
As soon as the bright sun is shining,
Thou too wilt follow, I trust.

When in the garden thou walk'st,
Thou then art the rose of all roses,
Lily of lilies as well.

When thou dost move in the dance,
Then each constellation moves also;
With thee and round thee they move.

Night! oh, what bliss were the night!
For then thou o'ershadow'st the lustre,
Dazzling and fair, of the moon.

Dazzling and beauteous art thou,
And flowers, and moon, and the planets
Homage pay, Sun, but to thee.

Sun! to me also be thou
Creator of days bright and glorious;
Life and Eternity this!
~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Presence
,
1460:In The Garden I: The Garden
PAST the town's clamour is a garden full
Of loneness and old greenery; at noon
When birds are hush'd, save one dim cushat's croon,
A ripen'd silence hangs beneath the cool
Great branches; basking roses dream and drop
A petal, and dream still; and summer's boon
Of mellow grasses, to be levell'd soon
By a dew-drenched scythe, will hardly stop
At the uprunning mounds of chestnut trees.
Still let me muse in this rich haunt by day,
And know all night in dusky placidness
It lies beneath the summer, while great ease
Broods in the leaves, and every light wind's stress
Lifts a faint odour down the verdurous way.
~ Edward Dowden,
1461:Grace is the first ingredient necessary for growing up in the image of God. Grace is unbroken, uninterrupted, unearned, accepting relationship. It is the kind of relationship humanity had with God in the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve were loved and provided for. They knew God’s truth, and they had perfect freedom to do God’s will. In short, they were secure; they had no shame and anxiety. They could be who they truly were. Perhaps you have experienced this kind of love and grace with someone. You can be exactly who you are. You do not need to hide your thoughts or feelings; you do not need to perform; you do not need to do anything to be loved. Someone knows the real you, and loves you anyway. ~ Henry Cloud,
1462:In The Garden Iv: The Singer
"THAT was the thrush's last good-night," I thought,
And heard the soft descent of summer rain
In the droop'd garden leaves; but hush! again
The perfect iterance,--freer than unsought
Odours of violets dim in woodland ways,
Deeper than coiled waters laid a-dream
Below moss'd ledges of a shadowy stream,
And faultless as blown roses in June days.
Full-throat'd singer! art thou thus anew
Voiceful to hear how round thyself alone
The enriched silence drops for thy delight
More soft than snow, more sweet than honey-dew?
Now cease: the last faint western streak is gone,
Stir not the blissful quiet of the night.
~ Edward Dowden,
1463:In The Garden V: A Summer Moon
QUEEN-MOON of this enchanted summer night,
One virgin slave companioning thee,--I lie
Vacant to thy possession as this sky
Conquer'd and calm'd by thy rejoicing might;
Swim down through my heart's deep, thou dewy bright
Wanderer of heaven, till thought must faint and die,
And I am made all thine inseparably,
Resolv'd into the dream of thy delight.
Ah no! the place is common for her feet,
Not here, not here,--beyond the amber mist,
And breadths of dusky pine, and shining lawn,
And unstirr'd lake, and gleaming belts of wheat,
She comes upon her Latmos, and has kiss'd
The sidelong face of blind Endymion.
~ Edward Dowden,
1464:Dutifully, the Count put the spoon in his mouth. In an instant, there was the familiar sweetness of fresh honey---sunlit, golden, and gay. Given the time of year, the Count was expecting this first impression to be followed by a hint of lilacs from the Alexander Gardens or cherry blossoms from the Garden Ring. But as the elixir dissolved on his tongue, the Count became aware of something else entirely. Rather than the flowering trees of Central Moscow, the honey had a hint of a grassy riverbank.....the trace of a summer breeze......a suggestion of a pergola.....But most of all there was the unmistakable essence of a thousand apple trees in bloom.
"Nizhny Novgorod", he said.
And it was. ~ Amor Towles,
1465:Tezcotzinco
Though thou art now a ruin bare and cold,
Thou wert sometime the garden of a king.
The birds have sought a lovelier place to sing.
The flowers are few. It was not so of old.
It was not thus when hand in hand there strolled
Through arbors perfumed with undying Spring
Bare bodies beautiful, brown, glistening,
Decked with green plumes and rings of yellow gold.
Do you suppose the herdsman sometimes hears
Vague echoes borne beneath the moon's pale ray
From those old, old, far-off, forgotten years?
Who knows? Here where his ancient kings held sway
He stands. Their names are strangers to his ears.
Even their memory has passed away.
~ Alan Seeger,
1466:Would you tell me,' said Alice, a little timidly, 'why you are painting those roses?'

Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began in a low voice, 'Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a red rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to—' At this moment Five, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out 'The Queen! The Queen!' and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice looked round, eager to see the Queen. ~ Lewis Carroll,
1467:How will you get the strength to be courageous like that? By looking at Jesus himself. Because if you think it takes courage to be with him, consider that it took infinitely more courage for him to be with you. Only Christianity says one of the attributes of God is courage. No other religion has a God who needed courage. As Packer points out, Jesus could save us only by facing an agonizing death that had him wrestling in sweat in the Garden of Gethsemane. He became mortal and vulnerable so that he could suffer, be betrayed and killed. He faced all these things for you, and he thought it worth it. Look at him facing the darkness for you. That will enable you to face any darkness yourself. You ~ Timothy J Keller,
1468:In The Garden Vii: Early Autumn
IF while I sit flatter'd by this warm sun
Death came to me, and kiss'd my mouth and brow,
And eyelids which the warm light hovers through,
I should not count it strange. Being half won
By hours that with a tender sadness run,
Who would not softly lean to lips which woo
In the Earth's grave speech? Nor could it aught undo
Of Nature's calm observances begun
Still to be here the idle autumn day.
Pale leaves would circle down, and lie unstirr'd
Where'er they fell; the tir'd wind hither call
Her gentle fellows; shining beetles stray
Up their green courts; and only yon shy bird
A little bolder grow ere evenfall.
~ Edward Dowden,
1469:Rikiu was watching his son Shoan as he swept and
watered the garden path. "Not clean enough," said Rikiu, when Shoan had finished his task, and bade him try again. After a weary hour the son turned to Rikiu: "Father, there is nothing more to be done. The steps have been washed for the third time, the stone lanterns and the trees are well sprinkled with water, moss and lichens are shining with a fresh verdure; not a twig, not a leaf have I left on the ground."
"Young fool," chided the tea-master, "that is not the way a garden path should be swept." Saying this, Rikiu stepped into the garden, shook a tree and scattered over the garden gold and crimson leaves, scraps of the brocade of autumn! ~ Kakuz Okakura,
1470:Roadside Flowers
WE are the roadside flowers,
Straying from garden grounds, —
Lovers of idle hours,
Breakers of ordered bounds.
If only the earth will feed us,
If only the wind be kind,
We blossom for those who need us,
The stragglers left behind.
And lo, the Lord of the Garden,
He makes his sun to rise,
And his rain to fall like pardon
On our dusty paradise.
On us he has laid the duty, —
The task of the wandering breed,—
To better the world with beauty,
Wherever the way may lead.
Who shall inquire of the season,
Or question the wind where it blows?
We blossom and ask no reason.
The Lord of the Garden knows.
~ Bliss William Carman,
1471:Emigre In Autumn
Walking down the garden path
From the house you do not own,
Once again you think of how
Cool the autumns were at home.
Dressed as if you had just left
The courtyard of the summer palace,
Walk the boundaries of the park,
Count the steps you take each day Miles that span no distances,
Journeys in sunlight toward the dark.
Sit and watch the daylight play
Idly on the tops of leaves
Glistening overhead in autumn's
Absolute dominion.
Nothing lost by you excels
These empires of sunlight.
But even here the subtle breeze
Plots with underlying shadows.
One gust of wind and suddenly
The sun is falling from the trees.
~ Dana Gioia,
1472:He was seated on the bench now. He had his left elbow on his knee, his right arm across his lap, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. White face, red hair: snow and fire, like something from an old tale. The book I had noticed earlier was on the bench beside him, its covers shut. Around Anluan's feet and in the birdbath, small visitors to the garden hopped and splashed and made the most of the day that was becoming fair and sunny. He did not seem to notice them. As for me, I found it difficult to take my eyes from him. There was an odd beauty in his isolation and his sadness, like that of a forlorn prince ensorcelled by a wicked enchantress, or a traveller lost forever in a world far from home. ~ Juliet Marillier,
1473:In this jangle of causes and effects, what had become of their true selves? Here Leonard lay dead in the garden, from natural causes; yet life was a deep, deep river, death a blue sky, life was a house, death a wisp of hay, a flower, a tower, life and death were anything and everything, except this ordered insanity, where the king takes the queen, and the ace the king. Ah, no; there was beauty and adventure behind, such as the man at her feet had yearned for; there was hope this side of the grave; there were truer relationships beyond the limits that fetter us now. As a prisoner looks up and sees stars beckoning, so she, from the turmoil and horror of those days, caught glimpses of the diviner wheels. ~ E M Forster,
1474:The old covenant which God had made with Israel depended upon man. The Ten Commandments said, “Don’t, don’t, don’t.” It depended upon the weak arm of the flesh, and as a result, it failed. This was not because there was anything wrong with the Ten Commandments or with the Law that God gave. The problem was with man. The same thing occurred in the Garden of Eden. Many people think that there was something wrong with the forbidden fruit or that the tree was something unusual. I think it was good fruit and just like any other. The problem was not the fruit on the tree but the pear (pair) on the ground! This New Covenant depends upon the power of the throne of God; it depends upon the Lord Jesus Christ. ~ J Vernon McGee,
1475:Full of the usual blights, mistakes, ruinous beetles and parasites, glorious for one week, bedraggled the next, my actual garden is always a mixed bag. As usual, it will fall far short of the imagined perfection. It is a chore. Hard work. I'll by turns aggressively weed and ignore it. The ground I tend sustains me in early summer, but the garden of the spirit is the place I go when the wind howls. This lush and fragrant expectation has a longer growing season than the plot of earth I'll hoe for the rest of the year. Raised in the mind's eye, nurtured by the faithful composting of orange rinds and tea leaves and ideas, it is finally the wintergarden that produces the true flowering, the saving vision. ~ Louise Erdrich,
1476:He knows that he should go to his wife –to help her, to console her –but he knows also that it will make no difference and so is putting it off. The truth? He wants just a little longer like this, looking out on the lawn. In this strange space, this addition to the house that has never really worked –always too hot or too cold, despite all the blinds and the big dust- magnet fan they had installed at ridiculous expense –he has managed somehow to drift into a state of semi- consciousness, a place in which his mind can roam beyond his body, beyond time, out into the garden where this very minute, in the early morning light, he is listening to them whispering in their den in the bushes. Anna and Jenny. ~ Teresa Driscoll,
1477:The Enchanted Garden
OH, what a garden it was, living gold, living green,
Full of enchantments like spices embalming the air,
There, where you fled and I followed--you ever unseen,
Yet each glad pulse of me cried to my heart, 'She is there!'
Roses and lilies and lilies and roses again,
Tangle of leaves and white magic of blossoming trees,
Sunlight that lay where, last moment, your footstep had lain-Was not the garden enchanted that proffered me these?
Ah, what a garden it is since I caught you at last-Scattered the magic and shattered the spell with a kiss:
Wintry and dreary and cold with the wind of the past,
Ah that a garden enchanted should wither to this!
~ Edith Nesbit,
1478:The row of villas which lines Western Avenue is like a row of pink graves in a field of grey; an architectural image of middle age. Their uniformity is the discipline of growing old, of dying without violence and living without success. They are houses which have got the better of their occupants, whom they change at will, and do not change themselves. Furniture vans glide respectfully among them like hearses, discreetly removing the dead and introducing the living. Now and then some tenant will raise his hand, expending pots of paint on the woodwork or labour on the garden, but his efforts no more alter the house than flowers a hospital ward, and the grass will grow its own way, like grass on a grave. ~ John le Carr,
1479:Those who have handled sciences have been either men of experiment or men of dogmas. The men of experiment are like the ant, they only collect and use; the reasoners resemble spiders, who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes a middle course: it gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. Not unlike this is the true business of philosophy; for it neither relies solely or chiefly on the powers of the mind, nor does it take the matter which it gathers from natural history and mechanical experiments and lay it up in the memory whole, as it finds it, but lays it up in the understanding altered and digested. ~ Francis Bacon,
1480:She had begun to love the rocks and the ocean, the thunder of the wave, and the sterility of the sand,–awful objects, the incessant recurrence of whose very sound seems intended to remind us of grief and of eternity. Their restless monotony of repetition, corresponds with the beatings of a heart which asks its destiny from the phenomena of nature, and feels the answer is ‘Misery.’
'Those who love may seek the luxuries of the garden, and inhale added intoxication from its perfumes, which seem the offerings of nature on that altar which is already erected and burning in the heart of the worshipper;–but let those who have loved seek the shores of the ocean, and they shall have their answer too. ~ Charles Robert Maturin,
1481:Men do not live in perfect harmony with each other. Rather, again and again conflicts arise between them. And the source of these conflicts is always the same: the scarcity of goods. I want to do X with a given good G and you want to do simultaneously Y with the very same good. Because it is impossible for you and me to do simultaneously X and Y with G, you and I must clash. If a superabundance of goods existed, i.e., if, for instance, G were available in unlimited supply, our conflict could be avoided. We could both simultaneously do ‘our thing’ with G. But most goods do not exist in superabundance. Ever since mankind left the Garden of Eden, there has been and always will be scarcity all-around us. ~ Hans Hermann Hoppe,
1482:The Garden Wall
Bricks of the wall,
so much older than the house taken I think from a farm pulled down
when the street was built narrow bricks of another century.
Modestly, though laid with panels and parapets,
a wall behind the flowers roses and hollyhocks, the silver
pods of lupine, sweet-tasting
phlox, gray
lavender unnoticed but I discovered
the colors in the wall that woke
when spray from the hose
played on its pocks and warts a hazy red, a
grain gold, a mauve
of small shadows, sprung
from the quiet dry brown archetype
of the world always a step
beyond the world, that can't
be looked for, only
as the eye wanders,
found.
~ Denise Levertov,
1483:Nearly all human cultures plant gardens, and the garden itself has ancient religious connections. For a long time, I've been interested in pre-Christian European beliefs, and the pagan devotions to sacred groves of trees and sacred springs. My German translator gave me a fascinating book on the archaeology of Old Europe, and in it I discovered ancient artifacts that showed that the Old European cultures once revered snakes, just as we Pueblo Indian people still do. So I decided to take all these elements - orchids, gladiolus, ancient gardens, Victorian gardens, Native American gardens, Old European figures of Snake-bird Goddesses - and write a novel about two young sisters at the turn of the century. ~ Leslie Marmon Silko,
1484:The heron-billed pale cattle-birds
That feed on some foul parasite
Of the Moroccan flocks and herds
Cross the narrow Straits to light
In the rich midnight of the garden trees
Till the dawn break upon those mingled seas.

Often at evening when a boy
Would I carry to a friend -
Hoping more substantial joy
Did an older mind commend -
Not such as are in Newton's metaphor,
But actual shells of Rosses' level shore.

Greater glory in the Sun,
An evening chill upon the air,
Bid imagination run
Much on the Great Questioner;
What He can question, what if questioned I
Can with a fitting confidence reply.

~ William Butler Yeats, At Algeciras - A Meditaton Upon Death
,
1485:The law of our being is Love of Life, and its interests and adornments; love of the world in which our lot is cast, engrossment with the interests and affections of earth. Not a low or sensual love; not love of wealth, of fame, of ease, of power, of splendor. Not low worldliness; but the love of Earth as the garden on which the Creator has lavished such miracles of beauty; as the habitation of humanity, the arena of its conflicts, the scene of its illimitable progress, the dwelling-place of the wise, the good, the active, the loving, and the dear; the place of opportunity for the development by means of sin and suffering and sorrow, of the noblest passions, the loftiest virtues, and the tenderest sympathies. ~ Albert Pike,
1486:All right, here comes the philosophy. You can leave if you like but I suggest you stick it out. You don’t measure your own success against the size or volume of the effect you’re having. You gauge it from the difference you make to the subject you’re working on. Is leading an army that wins a war really that much more satisfying than teaching a four-year-old to ride a bicycle? At our age,” she said, “you go for the small things and you do them as well as you can.” In the back of the pony trap, squashed beside his two large boxes, Siri still felt Daeng’s lip prints on his cheek and heard her whisper, “Go for the small things and do them well.” It would be his new mantra. Forget the planet, save the garden. ~ Colin Cotterill,
1487:In The Garden Ii: Visions
HERE I am slave of visions. When noon heat
Strikes the red walls, and their environ'd air
Lies steep'd in sun; when not a creature dare
Affront the fervour, from my dim retreat
Where woof of leaves embowers a beechen seat,
With chin on palm, and wide-set eyes I stare,
Beyond the liquid quiver and the glare,
Upon fair shapes that move on silent feet.
Those Three strait-robed, and speechless as they pass,
Come often, touch the lute, nor heed me more
Than birds or shadows heed; that naked child
Is dove-like Psyche slumbering in deep grass;
Sleep, sleep,--he heeds thee not, yon Sylvan wild
Munching the russet apple to its core.
~ Edward Dowden,
1488:Mark 10.1-12 The Lord Jesus reorients people to God’s design for marriage (jeffreyuriarte@gmail.com) - Your Highlight on Location 37-42 | Added on Monday, June 2, 2014 7:47:07 AM he fall into sin dramatically wounded the institution of marriage.  Just think of how Adam threw his wife under the bus when confronted by God in the garden.  He was just the first one.  Dysfunction and trouble affect all marriages – and a lot of it is the direct result of sinful hearts, minds, and wills.  Our Saviour came into this world not only to save souls, not even only to save souls and bodies, but also to redeem all of life, including marriage.  He is the one who restores creation, who brings it back into God’s precise purposes. ~ Anonymous,
1489:you reckon it could have been Pete?” I glanced off to the east and saw Pete basking in the sun beside the garden gate. He was purring and washing himself, which means that he was spitting in his paw and wiping the spit over his face. That’s the way a cat takes a bath. I take tremendous pride in my personal appearance. I cultivate a rich, manly smell. I bathe regularly, in the sewer. Now, let’s look at Pete. He takes spit-baths. Has anyone ever seen him in the sewer? No sir. But has Sally May ever referred to him as a stinking cat? No sir. So there you are, and that’s one of two dozen reasons why I hate cats and Pete in particular. I had to get that off my chest. Now, where was I? “Well, Drover, we’ve broken ~ John R Erickson,
1490:In Bertram's Garden
Jane looks down at her organdy skirt
As if it somehow were the thing disgraced,
For being there, on the floor, in the dirt,
And she catches it up about her waist,
Smooths it out along one hip,
And pulls it over the crumpled slip.
On the porch, green-shuttered, cool,
Asleep is Bertram that bronze boy,
Who, having wound her around a spool,
Sends her spinning like a toy
Out to the garden, all alone,
To sit and weep on a bench of stone.
Soon the purple dark must bruise
Lily and bleeding-heart and rose,
And the little cupid lose
Eyes and ears and chin and nose,
And Jane lie down with others soon,
Naked to the naked moon.
~ Donald Justice,
1491:Though he may dally with loose women, he's been raised a gentleman. He would never touch me unless I gave him permission." He might use incredibly powerful seduction tactics, but that was her problem, not Angus's.
"Aye," Mary said. "Don't ye remember how the miss took care o' the squire's son when he tried to kiss her in the garden?" She beamed at Sophia. "That was well done."
Sophia grinned. "He limped for a week"
Angus grunted. "The squire's son isn't half the man this one is. This is no boy ye're dealin' with here. He's a man's man;ye can see it in his eyes."
She placed a hand on his arm. "Angus, if it will make you feel better, I promise to call for help if MacLean so much as looks askance at me. ~ Karen Hawkins,
1492:Steppenwolf knows well enough why he is unhappy and drifting, bored and tired; it is because he will not recognize his purpose and follow it with his whole being.

‘He is resolved to forget that the desperate clinging to the self, and the desperate clinging to life are the surest way to eternal death.’ Haller knows that even when the Outsider is a universally acknowledged man of genius, it is due to ‘his immense powers of surrender and suffering, of his indifference to the ideals of the bourgeois, and of his patience under that last extremity of loneliness which rarifies the atmosphere of the bourgeois world to an ice-cold ether around those who suffer to become men, that loneliness of the garden of Gethsemane ~ Colin Wilson,
1493:Then I wonder who you are, you, this figure strolling through all my lingering visions of slow landscapes, ancient interiors and lavish ceremonies of silence. In all my dreams you either appear as a dream or else accompany me like a false reality. With you I visit regions that are perhaps dreams of yours, lands that are perhaps embodiments of absence and cruelty, your essential body fashioned into a quiet plain or a mountain with a chilling profile in the garden of some hidden palace. Perhaps my only dream is you, perhaps when I press my face to yours I will read in your eyes those impossible landscapes, those false tediums, those feelings that inhabit the gloom of my wearinesses and the grottoes of my disquiets. ~ Fernando Pessoa,
1494:Xliv
Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,
Here 's ivy !--take them, as I used to do
Thy fowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
1495:Seeds With Wings, Between Earth And Sky
Seeds with wings, between earth and sky
Fluttering, flying;
Seeds of a lily with blood-red core
Breathing of myrrh and of giroflore:
Where winds drop them there must they lie,
Living or dying.
Some to the garden, some to the wall,
Fluttering, falling;
Some to the river, some to earth:
Those that reach the right soil get birth;
None of the rest have lived at all.—
Whose voice is calling:
'Here is soil for winged seeds that near,
Fluttering, fearing,
Where they shall root and burgeon and spread.
Lacking the heart-room the song lies dead:
Half is the song that reaches the ear,
Half is the hearing '?
~ Augusta Davies Webster,
1496:The prompt Paris morning struck its cheerful notes—in a soft breeze and a sprinkled smell, in the light flit, over the garden-floor, of bareheaded girls with the buckled strap of oblong boxes, in the type of ancient thrifty persons basking betimes where terrace-walls were warm, in the blue-frocked brass-labelled officialism of humble rakers and scrapers, in the deep references of a straight-pacing priest or the sharp ones of a white-gaitered red-legged soldier. He watched little brisk figures, figures whose movement was as the tick of the great Paris clock, take their smooth diagonal from point to point; the air had a taste as of something mixed with art, something that presented nature as a white-capped master-chef. The ~ Henry James,
1497:In The Garden Iii: An Interior
THE grass around my limbs is deep and sweet;
Yonder the house has lost its shadow wholly,
The blinds are dropped, and softly now and slowly
The day flows in and floats; a calm retreat
Of temper'd light where fair things fair things meet;
White busts and marble Dian make it holy,
Within a niche hangs Durer's "Melancholy"
Brooding; and, should you enter, there will greet
Your sense with vague allurement effluence faint
Of one magnolia bloom; fair fingers draw
From the piano Chopin's heart-complaint;
Alone, white-robed she sits; a fierce macaw
On the verandah, proud of plume and paint,
Screams, insolent despot, showing beak and claw.
~ Edward Dowden,
1498:Even in “post-Christian” societies the gospel will continue to do its subversive work. Jesus used small things to describe his kingdom: a sprinkling of yeast that causes the whole loaf to rise, a pinch of salt that preserves a slab of meat, the smallest seed in the garden that grows into a great bush in which the birds of the air come to nest. Practices that used to be common—human sacrifice, slavery, duels to the death, child labor, exploitation of women, racial apartheid, debtors’ prisons, the killing of the elderly and incurably ill—have been banned, in large part because of a gospel stream running through cultures influenced by the Christian faith. Once salted and yeasted, society is difficult to un-salt and un-yeast. ~ Philip Yancey,
1499:Sonnet Xliv
Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers
Plucked in the garden, all the summer through
And winter, and it seemed as if they grew
In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart's ground. Indeed, those beds and bowers
Be overgrown with bitter weeds and rue,
And wait thy weeding; yet here's eglantine,
Here 's ivy !--take them, as I used to do
Thy fowers, and keep them where they shall not pine.
Instruct thine eyes to keep their colors true,
And tell thy soul their roots are left in mine.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
1500:This green place in which I stood with James turned slowly around us like a music box. All my memories returning, and all his. I could see and feel each of his days and he mine. Childhood songs, books read, hearts broken, arguments forgiven.The sweetness of these imperfections far outshining the regrets. Our lives overlapped as naturally as two blades of grass brushing together.
My pain forgotten, my clothes dry and clean, I pulled James close to me. As he lifted my chin, I felt no sensation of falling as when I had been Light touching one who is Quick. It wasn't the mere heat of a stolen moment in borrowed flesh. We touched now soul to soul, both of us Light. And when we kissed, the garden rocked, floating upstream. ~ Laura Whitcomb,

IN CHAPTERS [150/341]



  154 Poetry
   54 Philosophy
   54 Mysticism
   42 Integral Yoga
   33 Yoga
   25 Occultism
   20 Fiction
   11 Psychology
   11 Christianity
   5 Baha i Faith
   4 Mythology
   3 Philsophy
   2 Sufism
   1 Integral Theory
   1 Alchemy


   44 Rabindranath Tagore
   33 Sri Ramakrishna
   27 The Mother
   20 Satprem
   20 H P Lovecraft
   14 Sri Aurobindo
   12 Walt Whitman
   12 James George Frazer
   9 William Wordsworth
   9 William Butler Yeats
   8 Aleister Crowley
   7 Robert Browning
   7 Percy Bysshe Shelley
   7 Nolini Kanta Gupta
   7 Carl Jung
   6 John Keats
   6 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
   5 Jorge Luis Borges
   5 Baha u llah
   4 Saint Teresa of Avila
   4 Plato
   4 Li Bai
   4 Lewis Carroll
   4 Friedrich Nietzsche
   3 Saint Augustine of Hippo
   3 Ralph Waldo Emerson
   3 Joseph Campbell
   3 Jalaluddin Rumi
   3 Hafiz
   3 Anonymous
   2 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
   2 Omar Khayyam
   2 Kabir
   2 Jorge Luis Borges
   2 Jordan Peterson
   2 Ibn Arabi
   2 Edgar Allan Poe
   2 A B Purani


   44 Tagore - Poems
   32 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
   20 Lovecraft - Poems
   12 Whitman - Poems
   12 The Golden Bough
   9 Yeats - Poems
   9 Wordsworth - Poems
   7 Shelley - Poems
   7 Browning - Poems
   6 Keats - Poems
   5 The Secret Doctrine
   5 The Bible
   5 Collected Poems
   5 Agenda Vol 11
   4 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
   4 Magick Without Tears
   4 Li Bai - Poems
   4 Labyrinths
   4 Alice in Wonderland
   3 Words Of Long Ago
   3 The Way of Perfection
   3 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
   3 Talks
   3 Savitri
   3 Mysterium Coniunctionis
   3 Liber ABA
   3 Goethe - Poems
   3 Faust
   3 Emerson - Poems
   3 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
   3 Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin
   3 Agenda Vol 02
   2 The Practice of Psycho therapy
   2 The Confessions of Saint Augustine
   2 The Book of Certitude
   2 Symposium
   2 Selected Fictions
   2 Rumi - Poems
   2 Questions And Answers 1950-1951
   2 Poe - Poems
   2 On Thoughts And Aphorisms
   2 Maps of Meaning
   2 Hymn of the Universe
   2 Hafiz - Poems
   2 Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo
   2 Borges - Poems
   2 Anonymous - Poems
   2 Agenda Vol 13
   2 Agenda Vol 09
   2 Agenda Vol 04
   2 Agenda Vol 03
   2 5.1.01 - Ilion


0.00 - INTRODUCTION, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
   corners of the temple compound are two nahabats, or music towers, from which music flows at different times of day, especially at sunup, noon, and sundown, when the worship is performed in the temples. Three sides of the paved courtyard — all except the west — are lined with rooms set apart for kitchens, store-rooms, dining-rooms, and quarters for the temple staff and guests. The chamber in the northwest angle, just beyond the last of the Siva temples, is of special interest to us; for here Sri Ramakrishna was to spend a considerable part of his life. To the west of this chamber is a semicircular porch overlooking the river. In front of the porch runs a foot-path, north and south, and beyond the path is a large garden and, below the Garden, the Ganges. The orchard to the north of the buildings contains the Panchavati, the banyan, and the bel-tree, associated with Sri Ramakrishna's spiritual practices. Outside and to the north of the temple compound proper is the kuthi, or bungalow, used by members of Rani Rasmani's family visiting the Garden. And north of the temple garden, separated from it by a high wall, is a powder-magazine belonging to the British Government.
   --- SIVA
  --
   Keshab Chandra Sen and Sri Ramakrishna met for the first time in the Garden house of Jaygopal Sen at Belgharia, a few miles from Dakshineswar, where the great Brahmo leader was staying with some of his disciples. In many respects the two were poles apart, though an irresistible inner attraction was to make them intimate friends. The Master had realized God as Pure Spirit and Consciousness, but he believed in the various forms of God as well. Keshab, on the other hand, regarded image worship as idolatry and gave allegorical explanations of the Hindu deities. Keshab was an orator and a writer of books and magazine articles; Sri Ramakrishna had a horror of lecturing and hardly knew how to write his own name, Keshab's fame spread far and wide, even reaching the distant shores of England; the Master still led a secluded life in the village of Dakshineswar. Keshab emphasized social reforms for India's regeneration; to Sri Ramakrishna God-realization was the only goal of life. Keshab considered himself a disciple of Christ and accepted in a diluted form the Christian sacraments and Trinity; Sri Ramakrishna was the simple child of Kali, the Divine Mother, though he too, in a different way, acknowledged Christ's divinity. Keshab was a householder holder and took a real interest in the welfare of his children, whereas Sri Ramakrishna was a paramahamsa and completely indifferent to the life of the world. Yet, as their acquaintance ripened into friendship, Sri Ramakrishna and Keshab held each other in great love and respect. Years later, at the news of Keshab's death, the Master felt as if half his body had become paralyzed. Keshab's concepts of the harmony of religions and the Motherhood of God were deepened and enriched by his contact with Sri Ramakrishna.
   Sri Ramakrishna, dressed in a red-bordered dhoti, one end of which was carelessly thrown over his left shoulder, came to Jaygopal's garden house accompanied by Hriday. No one took notice of the unostentatious visitor. Finally the Master said to Keshab, "People tell me you have seen God; so I have come to hear from you about God." A magnificent conversation followed. The Master sang a thrilling song about Kali and forthwith went into samadhi. When Hriday uttered the sacred "Om" in his ears, he gradually came back to consciousness of the world, his face still radiating a divine brilliance. Keshab and his followers were amazed. The contrast between Sri Ramakrishna and the Brahmo devotees was very interesting. There sat this small man, thin and extremely delicate. His eyes were illumined with an inner light. Good humour gleamed in his eyes and lurked in the corners of his mouth. His speech was Bengali of a homely kind with a slight, delightful stammer, and his words held men enthralled by their wealth of spiritual experience, their inexhaustible store of simile and metaphor, their power of observation, their bright and subtle humour, their wonderful catholicity, their ceaseless flow of wisdom. And around him now were the sophisticated men of Bengal, the best products of Western education, with Keshab, the idol of young Bengal, as their leader.
  --
   Contact with the Brahmos increased Sri Ramakrishna's longing to encounter aspirants who would be able to follow his teachings in their purest form. "There was no limit", he once declared, "to the longing I felt at that time. During the day-time I somehow managed to control it. The secular talk of the worldly-minded was galling to me, and I would look wistfully to the day when my own beloved companions would come. I hoped to find solace in conversing with them and relating to them my own realizations. Every little incident would remind me of them, and thoughts of them wholly engrossed me. I was already arranging in my mind what I should say to one and give to another, and so on. But when the day would come to a close I would not be able to curb my feelings. The thought that another day had gone by, and they had not come, oppressed me. When, during the evening service, the temples rang with the sound of bells and conch-shells, I would climb to the roof of the kuthi in the Garden and, writhing in anguish of heart, cry at the top of my voice: 'Come, my children! Oh, where are you? I cannot bear to live without you.' A mother never longed so intensely for the sight of her child, nor a friend for his companions, nor a lover for his sweetheart, as I longed for them. Oh, it was indescribable! Shortly after this period of yearning the devotees1 began to come."
   In the year 1879 occasional writings about Sri Ramakrishna by the Brahmos, in the Brahmo magazines, began to attract his future disciples from the educated middle-class Bengalis, and they continued to come till 1884. But others, too, came, feeling the subtle power of his attraction. They were an ever shifting crowd of people of all castes and creeds: Hindus and Brahmos, Vaishnavas and Saktas, the educated with university degrees and the illiterate, old and young, maharajas and beggars, journalists and artists, pundits and devotees, philosophers and the worldly-minded, jnanis and yogis, men of action and men of faith, virtuous women and prostitutes, office-holders and vagabonds, philanthropists and self-seekers, dramatists and drunkards, builders-up and pullers-down. He gave to them all, without stint, from his illimitable store of realization. No one went away empty-handed. He taught them the lofty .knowledge of the Vedanta and the soul
  --
   In 1881 Hriday was dismissed from service in the Kali temple, for an act of indiscretion, and was ordered by the authorities never again to enter the Garden. In a way the hand of the Divine Mother may be seen even in this. Having taken care of Sri Ramakrishna during the stormy days of his spiritual discipline, Hriday had come naturally to consider himself the sole guardian of his uncle. None could approach the Master without his knowledge. And he would be extremely jealous if Sri Ramakrishna paid attention to anyone else. Hriday's removal made it possible for the real devotees of the Master to approach him freely and live with him in the temple garden.
   During the week-ends the householders, enjoying a respite from their office duties, visited the Master. The meetings on Sunday afternoons were of the nature of little festivals. Refreshments were often served. Professional musicians now and then sang devotional songs. The Master and the devotees sang and danced, Sri Ramakrishna frequently going into ecstatic moods. The happy memory of such a Sunday would linger long in the minds of the devotees. Those whom the Master wanted for special instruction he would ask to visit him on Tuesdays and Saturdays. These days were particularly auspicious for the worship of Kali.
  --
   It took the group only a few days to become adjusted to the new environment. The Holy Mother, assisted by Sri Ramakrishna's niece, Lakshmi Devi, and a few woman devotees, took charge of the cooking for the Master and his attendants. Surendra willingly bore the major portion of the expenses, other householders contributing according to their means. Twelve disciples were constant attendants of the Master: Narendra, Rakhal, Baburam, Niranjan, Jogin, Latu, Tarak, the-elder Gopal, Kali, Sashi, Sarat, and the younger Gopal. Sarada, Harish, Hari, Gangadhar, and Tulasi visited the Master from time to time and practised sadhana at home. Narendra, preparing for his law examination, brought his books to the Garden house in order to continue his studies during the infrequent spare moments. He encouraged his brother disciples to intensify their meditation, scriptural studies, and other spiritual disciplines. They all forgot their relatives and their
   worldly duties.
  --
   "I shall make the whole thing public before I go", the Master had said some time before. On January 1, 1886, he felt better and came down to the Garden for a little stroll. It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. Some thirty lay disciples were in the hall or sitting about under the trees. Sri Ramakrishna said to Girish, "Well, Girish, what have you seen in me, that you proclaim me before everybody as an Incarnation of God?" Girish was not the man to be taken by surprise. He knelt before the Master and said, with folded hands, "What can an insignificant person like myself say about the One whose glory even sages like Vyasa and Valmiki could not adequately measure?" The Master was profoundly moved. He said: "What more shall I say? I bless you all. Be illumined!" He fell into a spiritual mood. Hearing these words the devotees, one and all, became overwhelmed with emotion. They rushed to him and fell at his feet. He touched them all, and each received an appropriate benediction. Each of them, at the touch of the Master, experienced ineffable bliss. Some laughed, some wept, some sat down to meditate, some began to pray. Some saw light, some had visions of their Chosen Ideals, and some felt within their bodies the rush of spiritual power.
   Narendra, consumed with a terrific fever for realization, complained to the Master that all the others had attained peace and that he alone was dissatisfied. The Master asked what he wanted. Narendra begged for samadhi, so that he might altogether forget the world for three or four days at a time. "You are a fool", the Master rebuked him. "There is a state even higher than that. Isn't it you who sing, 'All that exists art Thou'? First of all settle your family affairs and then come to me. You will experience a state even higher than samadhi."
  --
   While the devotees were returning to the Garden house, carrying the urn with the sacred ashes, a calm resignation came to their souls and they cried, "Victory unto the Guru!"
   The Holy Mother was weeping in her room, not for her husband, but because she felt that Mother Kali had left her. As she was about to put on the marks of a Hindu widow, in a moment of revelation she heard the words of faith, "I have only passed from one room to another."

01.13 - T. S. Eliot: Four Quartets, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   The laughter in the Garden, echoed ecstasy
   Not lost, but requiring, pointing to the agony

0 1960-07-18 - triple time vision, Questions and Answers is like circling around the Garden, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
  object:0_1960-07-18 - triple time vision, Questions and Answers is like circling around the Garden
  author class:The Mother
  --
   As the experiences unfold, these old Questions and Answers give me the feeling of someone circling outside a garden while describing whats inside it. But a day comes when you enter the Garden, and then you know a little better whats inside. And Im starting to enter. Im starting.
   ***

0 1961-02-04, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Theon always told me that the true interpretation of the Biblical story of the serpent in the Garden of Eden is that humanity wanted to pass from a state of animal-like divinity to the state of conscious divinity by means of mental development, symbolized by eating the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. And this serpent, which Theon always said was iridescent, reflecting all the colors of the prism, was not at all the spirit of evil, but the power of evolution the force, the power of evolution. And it was natural that this power of evolution would make them taste the fruit of knowledge.
   Now, according to Theon, Jehovah was the chief of the Asuras,6 the supreme Asura, the egoistic God who wanted to dominate everything and keep everything under his control. And of course this act made him furious, for it enabled mankind to become gods through the power of an evolution of consciousness. And thats why he banished them from Paradise.

0 1961-04-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And, an incredible thing this cat was very pretty, but she had a wretched tail, a tail like an ordinary cat; and one day when I was with her at the window, one of the neighbors cats wandered into the Gardenan angora with three colors, three very prominent colors, and such a beautiful tail trailing behind! So I said (my cat was just beside me), Oh! Just see how beautiful she is! What a beautiful tail she has! And I could see my cat looking at her. My child, in her next litter she had one exactly like that! How did she manage it? I dont know. Three prominent colors and a magnificent tail! Did she hunt up a male angora? Or did she just will for it intensely?
   They are really something, you cant imagine! Once, when she was due to give birth and was very heavy, she was walking along the window ledge and I dont know what happened, but she fell. She had wanted to jump from the ledge, but she lost her footing and fell. It must have injured something. The kittens didnt come right away, they came later, but three of them were deformed (there were six in all). Well, when she saw how they were, she simply sat on themkilled them as soon as they were born. Such incredible wisdom! (They were completely deformed: the hind paws were turned the wrong way roundthey would have had an impossible life.)

0 1961-05-23, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So all these things [the earlier Questions and Answers] seem quite childish to me, quite childishirrelevant chatter. You are outside the Garden talking about what is within. It would be best to delete the whole thing.
   (In vain, Satprem protests, complaining that Mother always wants to delete everything.)

0 1962-02-27, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have had hundreds and hundreds of experiences like thatinformed just at the last moment (not one second too soon)and in very different circumstances. Once in Paris I was crossing the Boulevard Saint Michel (I had resolved to attain union with the psychic presence, the inner Divine, within a certain number of months, and these were the last weeks I was thinking of nothing but that, engrossed in that alone). I lived near the Luxembourg Gardens and was going there for a stroll, to sit in the Gardens that eveningstill indrawn. I came to a kind of intersectionnot a very sensible place to cross when youre interiorized! So, in that state, I started to cross when all of a sudden I had a shock, as if something had hit me, and I instinctively jumped back. As I jumped back a streetcar rushed by. I had felt the streetcar at a little more than arms length. It had touched my aura, the protective aura (that aura was very strong at the time I was deep into occultism and knew how to maintain it). My protective aura was touched, and it literally threw me backwards, just like a physical shock. Accompanied by the drivers insults!
   I leapt back just in time, and the streetcar passed by.
  --
   For the subtler senses, the method is to create an exact image of what you want, make contact with the corresponding vibration and then concentrate and practice. For instance, you practice seeing through an object, or hearing through a sound2 or seeing at a distance. As an example, I was once bedridden for several months, which I found quite boring I wanted to see. I was staying in one room and beyond that room was another little room and after that a sort of bridge; in the middle of the Garden the bridge changed into a stairway going down into a very spacious and beautiful studio built in the middle of the Garden.3 I wanted to go see what was happening in the studio I was bored stiff in my room! So I stayed very still, shut my eyes and gradually, gradually sent out my consciousness. I did the exercise regularly, day after day, at a set hour. You begin with your imagination, and then it becomes a fact. After a while, I distinctly sensed my vision physically moving: I followed it and saw things going on downstairs I knew absolutely nothing about. I would verify it in the evening, asking, Did it happen like this? Was that how it was?
   But each of these things must be practiced for months, patiently, almost stubbornly. You take the senses one after another: hearing, sight, and eventually even the subtle aspects of taste, smell and touch.

0 1962-07-14, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In fact, this too is tied in with to die unto death. Because, just imagine, why on earth do I invariably see the experience of the 12th to 13th on my left (gesture to the left)? And rather distant, as though I had returned along a LEVEL path (horizontal gesture) from there back to my body. Out there (to the left), I didnt have it any more! I didnt have it I existed in FULL consciousness, but I no longer had my body. Thats what makes me say my body was dead. I no longer had it. The experience was far, FAR away from here (I dont mean in the Garden!) somewhere. Somewhere very far away to the left, in the physical consciousness. And when I had traveled back here along a level path, I noticed that there was still a body.2
   But this body is no longer MY body it is A body.

0 1963-03-19, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I came across a man who had that blue light but I found him rather formidable. He looked after all the religious rites and priests of B.s state. He came here and asked to see me. I saw him on a December 9 (I think) when I paid a visit to the estate at Aryankuppam. I was walking in the Gardens when suddenly I felt something pulling at meand none too gently! I turned around and saw a tall man, standing and staring at me. So (I didnt know who he was, no one had told me), I stared back and simply answered his impudence! And pfft! it just fell off. I was surprised. Later (I had not yet been told who he was), he asked to see me. When he entered the room, I felt I felt a solid being. I dont know how to define it, I had never before felt it in a human beingsolid. As solid as rock. Extraordinarily solidcoagulated, an edifice. And quite powerful, I must say. Not like an arrow (gesture upward) but all around him. Then it was very funny (because theres no doubt he must have had an awesome effect on people instantly, without a word or anything), but I answered in my own way, with something else!
   He entered the room wearing some kind of religious headdress, I cant say what, and intending to be very arrogant. He went past me stiffly, and suddenly what do I see but the man do his pranam.2 He stepped back, took off his hat and did his pranam. And stayed that way for nearly a quarter of an hour. And it was interesting, his response was interesting. Then he started talking to me (someone translatedhe spoke in Hindi, I think), asking me to take care of B. I said something in turn, and then thought strongly, Now, time is up, it cant last forever! (He had already been there for more than fifteen minutes.) And suddenly I see him stiffen, put his thing back on his head, and go.

0 1963-08-07, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its giving me the same kind of nights again. But its odd, I dont know what it means, last night there were buildings made of a kind of red granite, and many Japanese. Japanese women sewing and making ladies dresses and fabrics; Japanese youths climbing up and down the buildings with great agility; and everybody was very nice. But it was always the same thing (gesture of a collapse or a fall into a hole): you know, a path opens up, you walk on it, and after a while, plop! it all collapses. And there was a young Japanese man who was climbing up and down the place absolutely like a monkey, with extraordinary ease: Oh, I thought, but thats what I should do! But when I approached the spot, the things he used to climb up and down vanished! Finally, after a while, I made a decision: I will go just the same, and found myself downstairs. There I met some people and all sorts of things took place. But what I found interesting was that all the buildings (there were a great many of them, countless buildings!) were made of a kind of red porphyry. It was very beautiful, Granite or porphyry, there were both. Wide stairs, big halls, large gardenseven in the Gardens there were constructions.
   But outwardly, difficulties are coming back, in the sense that the Chinese seem to be seized again with a zeal to conquer they are massing troops at the border.
  --
   Lets take a practical example [Mother smiles ironically at the practical! on another level than the corporeal level: say you have a garden invaded by crows and sparrows that are eating everything, insects, negligent gardeners. So you have a choice: either you wear yourself out and get worked up about it but you keep the Garden, or you react against your reaction and you say, All right, I wont say anything, let things go as they like, and then everything gets spoiled.
   Yes, yes.
  --
   Will the Garden not be eaten up by the insects? Thats the question.
   We dont make the experiment!
   I saw in France a patch of garden: it was surrounded by walls, and the land had belonged to someone who took great care of it and had planted flowers in it. It was fairly large, but completely enclosed. That person died. It was in southern France. He died and no one (there were no heirs), no one looked after the Garden: it was closed and stayed that way. I saw that garden I dont remember now, but certainly more than five years afterwards. It probably happened that the lock broke little by little and came loose; I pushed the door open and entered. Ive never seen anything more beautiful! There werent any paths any more, there was no order any more, nothing but confusion but what confusion! Ive never seen anything more beautiful. I stood there in a sort of ecstasy. There is a book (I think its Le Paradou by Zola) in which there is a description of a fairy placeit was just like that: all the flowers and plants entangled, in an absolutely disorderly growth, but with a harmony of another type, a much vaster, much stronger harmony.
   It was extraordinarily beautiful.

0 1964-07-31, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Before he broke his leg, Sri Aurobindo used to walk from the street over there up to the Garden here, straight through the rooms for a precise length of time. And to make sure he didnt walk for too long or too short a time, he had four wall clocks placed at a certain distance from each other, all synchronized; the last one was here and the first one was in his room, near him. One day, as he was walking as usual, he looked at the first clock: stopped; he looks at the second clock (he used to wind them himself): stopped, at the same time; looks at the third clock: stopped, at the same time; the fourth clock: stopped, at the same time. I was meditating at the time, and I heard him exclaim, Oh, that is a bad joke! And they all started up again one after the other.
   That I saw with my own eyes (and he wasnt under any illusions, nor was I). I asked him, What happened? He told me, See, all the clocks have stopped, and all the clocks started up again.

0 1966-07-27, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Today is the birthday of Jyotin, the Gardener. He brought me this, look! (Mother gives a double pink lotus) Its beautiful.
   The day man will be like this

0 1968-02-07, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I dont know if its our perception that progresses, or if really, as Sri Aurobindo said, When the supramental Force comes on the earth, there will be a response EVERYWHERE. It seems to me to be that, because these flowers are so, so vibrant, full of life. In the morning I always arrange them (its a work that takes me at least three quarters of an hour, there are more than a hundred flowers in different vases that I have to arrange, and to each person I give a special sort of flower I arrange all that), and in the vases, some flowers say, Me! And indeed they are just what I need. They call out to me to say, Me!But thats not new, because when I was in Japan, I had a large garden and I had cultivated part of it to grow vegetables; in the morning I would go down to the Garden to get the vegetables to be eaten that day, and some of them here, there, there (scattered gesture) would say, Me! Me! Me! Like that. So I would go and pick them. They literally called me, they called me.
   Thats a long time ago, nineteen hundred and when was it? It was in 1916-17, so thats forty years ago.

0 1968-09-21, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Before going to sleep, Satprem saw all kinds of suggestions pass by, in particular one showing Sujata thrown down into a water tank that is being dug in the Garden. A few hours later, Sujata was thrown down very near the water tank, against an iron bar in the wall. Thus the really serious accident was averted and turned into a minor one (which, nevertheless, barely missed piercing Sujata's eye).
   Mother means those attacks are the result of a conscious will somewhere.

0 1970-01-03, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But the big temple will be built afterwards, and then on a huge scale. The smaller one will go only once the bigger one is built. But of course, for the city to be completed, we must allow some twenty years (for everything to be in order, in its place). Its the same with the Gardens: all the Gardens that are being prepared are for now, but in twenty years, all that will have to be on another scale; then it will have to be something really really beautiful. And I wonder what substance that globe should be made of, the big one? The small one could be made of crystal: for a globe this size (gesture about one foot) I think it will do. The globe will have to be visible from every corner of the room.
   It shouldnt be too high above the floor either, should it?

0 1970-01-10, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   That underground passageway into the room People will enter some thirty feet away from the wall, at the foot of the urn. The urn will mark the starting point of the descent. Ill have to choose the exact direction. Then, later on, the urn might very well be INSIDE rather than outside the enclosure. So perhaps we could simply have a big wall all around, and then gardens. Between the surrounding wall and the building to be constructed, we can have gardens and the urn. And that wall will have an entrance (one or several ordinary gates), so that people will be able to move around in the Garden.
   Then there will be certain conditions to be met before one is allowed to descend into the underground passage and emerge into the temple. It will have to be a bit initiatory: not quite like that, not just anyhow.

0 1970-04-18, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   476When will the world change into the model of heaven? When all mankind becomes boys and girls together with God revealed as Krishna and Kali, the happiest boy and strongest girl of the crowd, playing together in the Gardens of Paradise. The Semitic Eden was well enough, but Adam and Eve were too grown up and its God himself too old and stern and solemn
   Oh! (Mother laughs)

0 1970-04-29, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But I know that this bodys life (what can I say?) yes, this bodys life is a miracle. Which means that if it werent what it is and the way it is, and arranged as it is, anyone else would be dead. But then, if you knew (smiling) how it becomes The body is conscious (and things arent hidden from it: its not led up the Garden path, its allowed to see things as they are), so then this is the way it is, it says, After all, it would make a difference mainly for others! For me Only, you understand, they are still in this kind of illusion of death because this [the body] disappears; and even this [Mothers body] no longer quite knows which of the two is [true]! For it, the truth should be Matterwell, even about that, it isnt quite sure (laughing) what that is! There is the other, the other way of seeing and feeling and beingano ther way of being. And this [the body] is beginning to wonder It knows that the old way is no longer that, but its beginning to wonder what it [the new way] will be like, that is to say, the way of perceiving, the relationship with things: How will the new consciousness relate with the old consciousness of those who will still be humans? All these things will remain what they are, but there will be a way of perceiving them, a relationship It comes its strange, it comes like a breath of aira breath of airand then it disappears again. Like a breath of another way of seeing, another way of feeling, another way of listening. And thats something drawing near, as it were, and then getting veiled. But then in the appearance [of Mothers body], in the appearance its (Mother makes a chaotic gesture). Yet, quite visibly, I am not ill, but at times its very difficult. Very difficult. And then, several times Ive had both [ways of being] at the same time. So (laughing) the body says to itself, Well, if people knew the way you are, theyd say youre quite insane! (Mother laughs) And it laughs.
   Its not afraid. Its not afraid.

0 1970-05-23, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Some people are seriously trying to locate the Garden of Eden! Some have found it. They told me, but I forget where.
   As for Thon, he used to say that the serpent is evolution.

0 1972-02-09, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Ohh two flights of stairs to climb! It used to be possible down in the Garden, but two flights of stairs.
   But people can move along more easily now, theyve built new stairways. Its really up to you: wouldnt it be more tiring to sit there while so many people file past?

0 1973-03-24, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I brought you a flower from the Garden: Surrender of Falsehood.2
   Oh!

04.04 - A Global Humanity, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   Humanity as a race will then present the figure of a homogeneous unitit will be a unity of many diversified elements, not simply, however, a composition of discrete individuals, but of varied aggregations of individualseven as the body is not merely composed of cells, but also these cells are collected in aggregates forming various limbs and systems, each again with its own identity and function. Indeed, the cosmic or global humanity is very likely to be pyramidal in structurenot a flat and level construction. There will be an overall harmony and integration containing a rich variety of gradationsgradations of consciousness, as even now there are: only the whole will be more luminous, that is to say, more conscious and more concordant; for at the top, on the higher levels, new lights will show themselves and men embodying those lights. They will radiate and spread out, infiltrate into the lower ranges something of their enlightenment and harmony and happiness which will bring about a global purification and a new dispensation; even the material world, the vegetable and mineral domains too may be taken up into this luminous consummation and earth become the Garden of Eden that it once was, suffused with a new glory.
   ***

06.01 - The Word of Fate, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  And in the Garden of the Spouse shall bloom
  When she is seized by her discovered lord.
  --
  Death is the Gardener of this wonder-tree;
  Love's sweetness sleeps in his pale marble hand.

09.18 - The Mother on Herself, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   When I began to practise occultism, as I started working with my nights, making them conscious, I found that between the subtle physical level and the most material vital there was a small region, very small indeed, that was not developed well enough to serve as a conscious link between the two. So what happened in the most material vital was not being accurately translated into the consciousness of the most subtle physical. Something was lost in the passage which was however not quite empty but only half-conscious, not adequately developed. I knew there was only one way, namely to go on working for the development. I started working sometime in February, I suppose. One month, two months, three, four months passed with no result. I continued. Five months, six months. Then in July or August I left my home in Paris for the country-side. I came to a very small place near the seaside and stayed with friends. There was a garden there. And in the Garden a fine green turf and flowers and trees all round. It was a pretty little quiet place. It was very quiet, very silent. One day I lay myself down on the grass, flat on the face resting on my elbows (among the grass). Suddenly the whole life of this nature, the whole life of the intermediate region I am speaking of, which is most living in the plant and in physical nature, all this domain became all on a sudden, unexpectedly, without any transition, absolutely living, intense, conscious, wonderful. This was the result of the continuous activity of six months that had not given any result till then. I did not know it; just a little favourable condition and the result is there. It is like the chick in the egg. It has been there for a long time but you do not see it. You ask doubtfully if there is any chick at all inside the egg. And then suddenly a crack, a small hole the egg bursts and the chick comes out, quite formed and whole and entire. It took all this time to form itself. So it is like this. When you wish to pre pare something within you it is like the preparation of the chick inside the shell. It takes a long time and there is not the least result. But you must not be disheartened. You must continue your effort, as before, regularly as if the whole of eternity were before you, thoroughly disinterested in the result. One day the result bursts upon you, the whole result of all your work.
   II

10.02 - The Gospel of Death and Vanity of the Ideal, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  Thy soul is a brief flower by the Gardener Mind
  Created in thy matter's terrain plot;

10.03 - The Debate of Love and Death, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  On the highways, in the Gardens of the world
  They wallowed oblivious of their divine parts,

1.00 - Preface, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
  BASED on the versicle in the Song of Songs, " Thy plants are an orchard of Pomegranates ", a book entitled Pardis Rimonim came to be written by Rabbi Moses Cordovero in the sixteenth century. By some authorities this philosopher is considered as the greatest lamp in post-Zoharic days of that spiritual Menorah, the Qabalah, which, with so rare a grace and so profuse an irradiation of the Supernal Light, illuminated the literature and religious philosophy of the Jewish people as well as their immediate and subsequent neighbours in the Dias- pora. The English equivalent of Pardis Rimonim - A Garden of Pomegranates - I have adopted as the title of my own modest work, although I am forced to confess that this latter has but little connection either in actual fact or in historicity with that of Cordovero. In the golden harvest of purely spiritual intimations which the Holy Qabalah brings, I truly feel that a veritable garden of the soul may be builded ; a garden of immense magnitude and lofty significance, wherein may be discovered by each one of us all manner and kind of exotic fruit and gracious flower of exquisite colour. The pomegranate, may I add, has always been for mystics everywhere a favourable object for recon- dite symbolism. the Garden or orchard has likewise pro- duced in that book named The Book of Splendour an almost inexhaustible treasury of spiritual imagery of superb and magnificent taste.
  This book goes forth then in the hope that, as a modern writer has put it:

1.00 - PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  Sees not the Gardener, even while buds his tree,
  Both flower and fruit the future years adorning?

1.01 - Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  lived; as Eve in the Garden of Eden could not rest content until
  she had convinced Adam of the goodness of the forbidden apple.
  --
  73 Now what is paradise? Clearly, the Garden of Eden with its
  two-faced tree of life and knowledge and its four streams. In the
  --
  which, like the Garden of Eden, is conceived as a mandala. But
  the mandala is a symbol of individuation. So it is the black

1.01 - DOWN THE RABBIT-HOLE, #Alice in Wonderland, #Lewis Carroll, #Fiction
  After awhile, finding that nothing more happened, she decided on going into the Garden at once; but, alas for poor Alice! When she got to the door, she found she had forgotten the little golden key, and when she went back to the table for it, she found she could not possibly reach it: she could see it quite plainly through the glass and she tried her best to climb up one of the legs of the table, but it was too slippery, and when she had tired herself out with trying, the poor little thing sat down and cried.
  "Come, there's no use in crying like that!" said Alice to herself rather sharply. "I advise you to leave off this minute!" She generally gave herself very good advice (though she very seldom followed it), and sometimes she scolded herself so severely as to bring tears into her eyes.
  --
  Alice, "and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door: so either way I'll get into the Garden, and I don't care which happens!"
  She ate a little bit and said anxiously to herself, "Which way? Which way?" holding her hand on the top of her head to feel which way she was growing; and she was quite surprised to find that she remained the same size. So she set to work and very soon finished off the cake.

1.01 - MASTER AND DISCIPLE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  As he left the room with Sidhu, he heard the sweet music of the evening service arising in the temple from gong, bell, drum, and cymbal. He could hear music from the nahabat, too, at the south end of the Garden. The sounds travelled over the Ganges, floating away and losing themselves in the distance. A soft spring wind was blowing, laden with the fragrance of flowers; the moon had just appeared. It was as if nature and man together were preparing for the evening worship. M. and Sidhu visited the twelve Siva temples, the Radhakanta temple, and the temple of Bhavatarini. And as M.
  watched the services before the images his heart was filled with joy.

1.01 - On Love, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
  Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the Garden.
  For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.

1.01 - the Call to Adventure, #The Hero with a Thousand Faces, #Joseph Campbell, #Mythology
  ter Eve, now ripe to depart from the idyl of the Garden, or again,
  the supremely concentrated Future Buddha breaking past the

1.01 - To Watanabe Sukefusa, #Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin, #unset, #Zen
  In contrast to these terrible tales of retri bution, there are also accounts of children who thanks to heaven's miraculous intervention were enabled to carry out acts of great filial devotion: the story of a rare medicinal stone suddenly appearing in the Garden of a son who needed it to cure an ailing father; of midwinter ice breaking up and fresh carp leaping into the arms of a son whose stepmo ther had a craving for minced fish; of a poor man whose shovel struck a cauldron filled with gold as he was about to bury his child alive to ensure his mother would be adequately fed; of bamboo shoots emerging in midwinter for a son anxious to feed them to his mother; of a carp-filled fountain gushing up in the Garden of a son who wanted to satisfy his mother's yearning for fine water and minced fish.
  But even if you don't perform acts of filial devotion like these, of a caliber that elicits heavenly intervention, I devoutly hope you do not commit acts of an unfilial nature that will bring punishment down upon you. A person who ignores or refuses to acknowledge what takes place right under his nose and insists on merely doing as he pleases must be either a stupid man or an evil one.

1.02 - THE POOL OF TEARS, #Alice in Wonderland, #Lewis Carroll, #Fiction
  Just at this moment her head struck against the roof of the hall; in fact, she was now rather more than nine feet high, and she at once took up the little golden key and hurried off to the Garden door.
  Poor Alice! It was as much as she could do, lying down on one side, to look through into the Garden with one eye; but to get through was more hopeless than ever. She sat down and began to cry again.
  She went on shedding gallons of tears, until there was a large pool all
  --
  "That _was_ a narrow escape!" said Alice, a good deal frightened at the sudden change, but very glad to find herself still in existence. "And now for the Garden!" And she ran with all speed back to the little door; but, alas! the little door was shut again and the little golden key was lying on the glass table as before. "Things are worse than ever," thought the poor child, "for I never was so small as this before, never!"
  As she said these words, her foot slipped, and in another moment, splash! she was up to her chin in salt-water. Her first idea was that she had somehow fallen into the sea. However, she soon made out that she was in the pool of tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high.

1.02 - Where I Lived, and What I Lived For, #Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, #Henry David Thoreau, #Philosophy
  The only house I had been the owner of before, if I except a boat, was a tent, which I used occasionally when making excursions in the summer, and this is still rolled up in my garret; but the boat, after passing from hand to hand, has gone down the stream of time. With this more substantial shelter about me, I had made some progress toward settling in the world. This frame, so slightly clad, was a sort of crystallization around me, and reacted on the builder. It was suggestive somewhat as a picture in outlines. I did not need to go outdoors to take the air, for the atmosphere within had lost none of its freshness. It was not so much within doors as behind a door where I sat, even in the rainiest weather. The Harivansa says, An abode without birds is like a meat without seasoning. Such was not my abode, for I found myself suddenly neighbor to the birds; not by having imprisoned one, but having caged myself near them. I was not only nearer to some of those which commonly frequent the Garden and the orchard, but to those wilder and more thrilling songsters of the forest which never, or rarely, serenade a villager,the wood-thrush, the veery, the scarlet tanager, the field-sparrow, the whippoorwill, and many others.
  I was seated by the shore of a small pond, about a mile and a half south of the village of Concord and somewhat higher than it, in the midst of an extensive wood between that town and Lincoln, and about two miles south of that our only field known to fame, Concord Battle

1.03 - To Layman Ishii, #Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin, #unset, #Zen
  Preserve and protect it with care.' The trouble is, the roots binding the students to life are still not severed. the Gardens of the patriarchs still lie beyond their farthest horizons. Any teacher who does this, though he may love his student dearly, causes him irreparable harm. For their part, the students start dancing around, rolling their heads this way and that way, wagging their tails joyfully, eagerly lapping away at the fox slobber doled out to them, completely unaware it is a virulent poison they consume.e They waste their entire lives stuck in a half-drunken, half-sober state of delusion. Not even the hand of a Buddha can cure them.
  "A foolish man long ago heard that if you put a leech out under the sun in very hot weather, it would transform into a dragonfly and soar into the sky. One summer day, he decided to put it to the test. Wading into a marsh, he poked around until he found a particularly large old leech. Throwing it on the hot ground, he watched very carefully as the worm squirmed and writhed in agony. Suddenly, it flipped over on its back, split in two, and transformed into a ugly creature with a hundred legs like a centipede. It scowled furiously at him, snapping its fangs in anger. Ahh! This creature that was supposed to soar freely through the skies had turned into a repulsive worm that could only crawl miserably over the ground. A truly terrifying turn of events!

1.03 - VISIT TO VIDYASAGAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  On the afternoon of August 5 the Master left Dakshineswar in a hackney carriage, accompanied by Bhavanath, M., and Hazra. Vidyasagar lived in Badurbagan, in central Calcutta, about six miles from Dakshineswar. On the way Sri Ramakrishna talked with his companions; but as the carriage neared Vidyasagar's house his mood suddenly changed. He was overpowered with divine ecstasy. Not noticing this, M. pointed out the Garden house where Raja Rammohan Roy had lived. The Master was annoyed and said, "I don't care about such things now." He was going into an ecstatic state.
  The carriage stopped in front of. Vidyasagar's house. The Master alighted, supported by M., who then led the way. In the courtyard were many flowering plants. As the Master walked to the house he said to M., like a child, pointing to his shirt-button: "My shirt is un buttoned. Will that offend Vidyasagar?" "Oh, no!" said M. "Don't be anxious about it.
  --
  Everybody was delighted with the Master's conversation. Again addressing Vidyasagar, he said with a smile: "Please visit the temple garden some time - I mean the Garden of Rasmani. It's a charming place."
  VIDYASAGAR: "Oh, of course I shall go. You have so kindly come here to see me, and shall I not return your visit?"

1.04 - ADVICE TO HOUSEHOLDERS, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  "One day Jatindra came to the Garden of Jadu Mallick. I was there too. I asked him: 'What is the duty of man? Isn't it our duty to think of God?' Jatindra replied: 'We are worldly people. How is it possible for us to achieve liberation? Even King Yudhisthira had to have a vision of hell.' This made me very angry. I said to him: 'What sort of man are you? Of all the incidents of Yudhisthira's life, you remember only his seeing hell. You don't remember his truthfulness, his forbearance, his patience, his discrimination, his dispassion, his devotion to God.' I was about to say many more things, when Hriday stopped my mouth. After a little while Jatindra left the place, saying he had some other business to attend to.
  "Many days later I went with Captain to see Rj Sourindra Tagore. As soon as I met him, I said, 'I can't address you as "Rj", or by any such title, for I should be telling a lie.' He talked to me a few minutes, but even so our conversation was interrupted by the frequent visits of Europeans and others. A man of rajasic temperament, Sourindra was naturally busy with many things. Jatindra his eldest brother, had been told of my coming, but he sent word that he had a pain in his throat and couldn't go out.
  --
  Sounds of conchshells and cymbals were carried on the air. The devotees came outside the room and saw the priests and servants gathering flowers in the Garden for the divine service in the temples. From the nahabat floated the sweet melody of musical instruments, befitting the morning hours.
  Narendra and the other devotees finished their morning duties and came to the Master.

1.04 - THE APPEARANCE OF ANOMALY - CHALLENGE TO THE SHARED MAP, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  Things have not yet fallen apart in the Garden of Eden have not yet separated (completely) into their
  constituent elements. Two things that cannot be discerned from one another are not two things, however,
  --
  There is no suffering, in the Garden of Eden. In such a state things do not really exist. In consequence,
  myth appears to have equated the establishment of the opposition necessary to being with the appearance
  --
  unto the woman, Yea, hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the Garden?
  And the woman said unto the serpent, We may eat of the fruit of the trees of the Garden:
  But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the Garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it,
  neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die.
  --
  And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the Garden in the cool of the day: and Adam and
  his wife hid themselves from the presence of the Lord God amongst the trees of the Garden.
  And the Lord God called unto Adam, and said unto him, Where art thou?
  And he said, I heard thy voice in the Garden, and I was afraid, because I was naked; and I hid myself.
  (Genesis 3:8-10).
  --
  Therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the Garden of Eden, to till the ground from whence he was
  taken.
  So he drove out the man: and he placed at the east of the Garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming
  sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life. (Genesis 3:22-24).

1.04 - To the Priest of Rytan-ji, #Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin, #unset, #Zen
  Jik Anj has come and delivered another letter. I read it while we were having a cup of tea, and was glad to learn that you are in good health. You should not worry about me. I am doing fine, still spending much of my time in the Garden checking to see how my eggplants are coming along.
  It is the third letter you have written and the third time your emissary has made a trip all this way to deliver it to me. I have been extremely negligent in failing to respond to your requests, but the reason I have not answered is because I find the responsibility involved in accepting such an invitation so intimidating. I know only too well how dim my prospects are for carrying it out. A hedge-parson such as myself is totally unfit for such a momentous task. It's like trying to make an earthworm roar like a dragon, or make a jackass perform tricks like a fine riding horse.

1.05 - Bhakti Yoga, #Amrita Gita, #Swami Sivananda Saraswati, #Hinduism
  8. Bhakti grows gradually just as you grow a flower or a tree in a garden. Cultivate Bhakti in the Garden of your heart gradually.
  9. Faith is necessary for attaining God-realisation. Faith can work wonders. Faith can move mountains. Faith can take you to the inner chambers of the Lord, where reason dares not enter.

1.05 - BOOK THE FIFTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
  As in the Garden's shady walk she stray'd,
  A fair pomegranate charm'd the simple maid,

1.05 - Problems of Modern Psycho therapy, #The Practice of Psycho therapy, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  trained upon the trellis of the norm by the Gardeners art. Only then willnormal adaptation be reached.
  [154]

1.05 - Some Results of Initiation, #Knowledge of the Higher Worlds, #Rudolf Steiner, #Theosophy
   spiritual world. The founders of the great cosmogonies did not give mankind these teachings from some vague feeling. They gave them for the good reason that they were great initiates. Out of their knowledge did they shape their moral teachings. They knew how these would act upon the finer nature of man, and desired that their followers should gradually achieve the development of this finer nature. To live in the sense of these great cosmogonies means to work for the attainment of personal spiritual perfection. Only by so doing can man become a servant of the world and of humanity. Self-perfection is by no means self-seeking, for the imperfect man is an imperfect servant of the world and of humanity. The more perfect a man is, the better does he serve the world. "If the rose adorns itself, it adorns the Garden."
  The founders of the great cosmogonies are therefore the great initiates. Their teaching flows into the soul of men, and thus, with humanity, the whole world moves forward. Quite consciously did they work to further this evolutionary process of humanity. Their teachings can only be understood if it be remembered that they

1.05 - THE HOSTILE BROTHERS - ARCHETYPES OF RESPONSE TO THE UNKNOWN, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
  Cherub, a splendid creature living in the Garden of Eden till the day that iniquity was found in thee. In
  the New Testament (Luke 10:18) Jesus speaks of Satan as falling from heaven, hence Satans traditional
  --
  An old English legend reports what Seth saw in the Garden of Eden. In the midst of paradise there rose
  a shining fountain, from which four streams flowed, watering the whole world. Over the fountain stood
  --
  points and all the low points are metaphorically related to one another. That is, the Garden of Eden, the Promised
  Land, Jerusalem, and Mount Zion are interchangeable synonyms for the home of the soul, and in Christian imagery

1.05 - The Magical Control of the Weather, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  cloudless blue. the Gardens of the Conca d'Oro, which surround
  Palermo with a magnificent belt of verdure, were withering. Food was

1.05 - THE MASTER AND KESHAB, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  About four o'clock in the afternoon the steamboat with Keshab and his Brahmo followers cast anchor in the Ganges alongside the Kli temple at Dakshineswar. The passengers saw in front of them the bathing-ghat and the chandni. To their left, in the temple compound, stood six temples of iva, and to their right another group of six iva temples. The white steeple of the Kli temple, the tree-tops of the Panchavati, and the silhouette of pine-trees stood high against the blue autumn sky. the Gardens between the two nahabats were filled with fragrant flowers, and along the bank of the Ganges were rows of flowering plants. The blue sky was reflected in the brown water of the river, the sacred Ganges, associated with the most ancient traditions of Aryan civilization. The outer world appeared soft and serene, and the hearts of the Brahmo devotees were filled with peace.
  Master in samdhi

1.06 - THE MASTER WITH THE BRAHMO DEVOTEES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  When the carriage bringing the Master and a few devotees reached the Garden house, the assembly stood up respectfully to receive him. There was a sudden silence, like that which comes when the curtain in a theatre is about to be rung up. People who had been conversing with one another now fixed their attention on the Master's serene face, eager not to lose one word that might fall from his lips.
  Master's joy on seeing Shivanth
  --
  It was about half past eight when the evening worship began in the prayer hall. Soon the moon rose in the autumn sky and flooded the trees and creepers of the Garden with its light. After prayer the devotees began to sing. Sri Ramakrishna was dancing, intoxicated with love of God. The Brahmo devotees danced around him to the accompaniment of drums and cymbals. All appeared to be in a very joyous mood. The place echoed and reechoed with God's holy name. When the music had stopped, Sri Ramakrishna prostrated himself on the ground and, making salutations to the Divine Mother again and again, said: "Bhagavata-Bhakta-Bhagavan! My salutations at the feet of the jnanis! My salutations at the feet of the bhaktas! I salute the bhaktas who believe in God with form, and I salute the bhaktas who believe in God without form. I salute the knowers of Brahman of olden times. And my salutations at the feet of the modern knowers of Brahman of the Brahmo Samaj!"
  Then the Master and the devotees enjoyed a supper of delicious dishes, which Benimadhav, their host, had provided.
  --
  MASTER: "Is it possible to understand God's action and His motive? He creates, He preserves, and He destroys. Can we ever understand why He destroys? I say to the Divine Mother: 'O Mother, I do not need to understand. Please give me love for Thy Lotus Feet.' The aim of human life is to attain bhakti. As for other things, the Mother knows best. I have come to the Garden to eat mangoes. What is the use of my calculating the number of trees, branches, and leaves? I only eat the mangoes; I don't need to know the number of trees and leaves."
  Baburam, M., and Ramdayal slept that night on the floor of the Master's room.
  --
  MASTER (to the Marwari devotees): "You see, the feeling of 'I' and 'mine' is the result of ignorance. But to say, 'O God, Thou art the Doer; all these belong to Thee' is the sign of Knowledge. How can you say such a thing as 'mine'? The superintendent of the Garden says, 'This is my garden.' But if he is dismissed because of some misconduct, then he does not have the courage to take away even such a worthless thing as his mango-wood box. Anger and lust cannot be destroyed. Turn them toward God. If you must feel desire and temptation, then desire to realize God, feel tempted by Him. Discriminate and turn the passions away from worldly objects. When the elephant is about to devour a plaintain-tree in someone's garden, the mahut strikes it with his iron-tipped goad.
  "You are merchants. You know how to improve your business gradually. Some of you start with a castor-oil factory. After making some money at that, you open a cloth shop. In the same way, one makes progress toward God. It may be that you go into solitude, now and then, and devote more time to prayer.

1.07 - A MAD TEA-PARTY, #Alice in Wonderland, #Lewis Carroll, #Fiction
  Once more she found herself in the long hall and close to the little glass table. Taking the little golden key, she unlocked the door that led into the Garden. Then she set to work nibbling at the mushroom (she had kept a piece of it in her pocket) till she was about a foot high; then she walked down the little passage; and _then_--she found herself at last in the beautiful garden, among the bright flower-beds and the cool fountains.

1.08 - THE QUEEN'S CROQUET GROUND, #Alice in Wonderland, #Lewis Carroll, #Fiction
  A large rose-tree stood near the entrance of the Garden; the roses growing on it were white, but there were three gardeners at it, busily painting them red. Suddenly their eyes chanced to fall upon Alice, as she stood watching them. "Would you tell me, please," said Alice, a little timidly, "why you are painting those roses?"
  Five and Seven said nothing, but looked at Two. Two began, in a low voice, "Why, the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a
  _red_ rose-tree, and we put a white one in by mistake; and, if the Queen was to find it out, we should all have our heads cut off, you know. So you see, Miss, we're doing our best, afore she comes, to--" At this moment, Five, who had been anxiously looking across the Garden, called out, "The Queen! The Queen!" and the three gardeners instantly threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps and Alice looked 'round, eager to see the Queen.
  First came ten soldiers carrying clubs, with their hands and feet at the corners: next the ten courtiers; these were ornamented all over with diamonds. After these came the royal children; there were ten of them, all ornamented with hearts. Next came the guests, mostly Kings and Queens, and among them Alice recognized the White Rabbit. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, carrying the King's crown on a crimson velvet cushion; and last of all this grand procession came THE KING AND THE QUEEN OF HEARTS.
  --
  Alice thought she might as well go back and see how the game was going on. So she went off in search of her hedgehog. The hedgehog was engaged in a fight with another hedgehog, which seemed to Alice an excellent opportunity for croqueting one of them with the other; the only difficulty was that her flamingo was gone across to the other side of the Garden, where Alice could see it trying, in a helpless sort of way, to fly up into a tree. She caught the flamingo and tucked it away under her arm, that it might not escape again.
  Just then Alice ran across the Duchess (who was now out of prison). She tucked her arm affectionately into Alice's and they walked off together.

1.09 - ADVICE TO THE BRAHMOS, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  "Then there is the class of the everperfect. They are born in each life with their spiritual consciousness already awakened. Think of a spring whose outlet is obstructed. While looking after various things in the Garden, the plumber accidentally clears it and the water gushes out. Yet people are amazed to see the first manifestations of an everperfect soul's zeal for God. They say, 'Where was all this devotion and renunciation and love?'"
  The conversation turned to the spiritual zeal of devotees, as illustrated in the earnestness of the gopis of Vrindvan. Ramlal sang:

1.10 - Relics of Tree Worship in Modern Europe, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  small umbrageous arbours are constructed in the Garden. In Stockholm
  on this day a leaf-market is held at which thousands of May-poles

1.10 - THE MASTER WITH THE BRAHMO DEVOTEES (II), #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  "Once a devotee was overwhelmed with ecstasy at the sight of a babla-tree. The idea flashed in his mind that the handle of the axe used in the Garden of the temple of Radhakanta was made from the wood of the babla. Another devotee had such devotion for his guru that he would be overwhelmed with divine feeling at the sight of his guru's neighbours. Krishna-consciousness would be kindled in Radha's mind at the sight of a cloud, a blue dress, or a painting of Krishna. She would become restless and cry like a mad person, 'Krishna, where art Thou?' "
  GHOSAL: "But madness is not desirable."

1.10 - The Revolutionary Yogi, #Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness, #Satprem, #Integral Yoga
  On May 4, 1908, at dawn, Sri Aurobindo was pulled out of bed at gunpoint by the British police. He was thirty-six. An attempt on the life of a British magistrate based in Calcutta had just failed. The bomb used in the attempt had been manufactured in the Garden where Barin,
  his younger brother, had been training "disciples."

1.11 - The Influence of the Sexes on Vegetation, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  being trained, the men sleep near the Gardens and never approach
  their wives; should they enter the Garden after breaking this rule
  of continence the fruits of the Garden would be spoilt.
  If we ask why it is that similar beliefs should logically lead,

1.11 - WITH THE DEVOTEES AT DAKSHINEWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  "One night a fisherman went into a garden and cast his net into the lake in order to steal some fish. The owner heard him and surrounded him with his servants. They brought lighted torches and began to search for him. In the mean time the fisherman smeared his body with ashes and sat under a tree, pretending to be a holy man. The owner and his men searched a great deal but could not find the thief. All they saw was a holy man covered with ashes, meditating under a tree. The next day the news spread in the neighbourhood that a great sage was staying in the Garden. People gathered there and saluted him with offerings of fruit, flowers, and sweets. Many also offered silver and copper coins. 'How strange!' thought the fisherman. 'I am not a genuine holy man, and still people show such devotion to me. I shall certainly realize God if I become a true sadhu. There is no doubt about it.'
  "If a mere pretence of religious life can bring such spiritual awakening, you can imagine the effect of real sadhana. In that state you will surely realize what is real and what is unreal. God alone is real, and the world is illusory."
  --
  "You have taken so much trouble to come here. You must be seeking God. But almost everyone is satisfied simply by seeing the Garden. Only one or two look for its owner.
  People enjoy the beauty of the world; they do not seek its Owner.
  --
  MASTER: "There is no doubt that virtue and vice exist in the world; but God Himself is unattached to them. There may be good and bad smells in the air, but the air is not attached to them. The very nature of God's creation is that good and evil, righteousness and unrighteousness, will always exist in the world. Among the trees in the Garden one finds mango and jackfruit, and hog plum too. Haven't you noticed that even wicked men are needed? Suppose there are rough tenants on an estate; then the landlord must send a ruffian to control them."
  The conversation again turned to the life of the householder.

1.12 - GARDEN, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  As through the Garden-gate I came?
  MARGARET

1.12 - THE FESTIVAL AT PNIHTI, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  Sri Ramakrishna, accompanied by the devotees, took a carriage to return to Dakshineswar. They were going to pass the temple garden of Mati Seal on the way. For a long time the Master had been asking M. to take him to the reservoir in the Garden in order that he might teach him how to meditate on the formless God. There were tame fish in the reservoir. Nobody harmed them. Visitors threw puffed rice and other bits of food into the water, and the big fish came in swarms to eat the food. Fearlessly the fish swam in the water and sported there joyously.
  Coming to the reservoir, the Master said to M.: "Look at the fish. Meditating on the formless God is like swimming joyfully like these fish, in the Ocean of Bliss and Consciousness."
  --
  "Once Hriday brought a bull-calf here. I saw, one day, that he had tied it with a rope in the Garden, so that it might graze there. I asked him, 'Hriday, why do you tie the calf there every day?' 'Uncle,' he said, 'I am going to send this calf to our village. When it grows strong I shall yoke it to the plough.' As soon as I heard these words I was stunned to think: 'How inscrutable is the play of the divine maya! Kamarpukur and Sihore are so far away from Calcutta! This poor calf must go all that way. Then it will grow, and at length it will be yoked to the plough. This is indeed the world! This is indeed maya!' I fell down unconscious. Only after a long time did I regain consciousness."
  It was three or four o'clock in the afternoon. M. found Sri Ramakrishna seated on the couch in an abstracted mood. After some time he heard him talking to the Divine Mother. The Master said, "O Mother, why hast Thou given him only a particle?"
  --
  M: "They are satisfied, as you say, with describing the Garden, but they seldom speak of seeing the Master of the Garden. Describing the Garden is the beginning and end of their worship."
  MASTER: "You are right. Our only duty is to seek the Master of the Garden and speak to Him. The only purpose of life is to realize God."
  Sri Ramakrishna then went to Adhar's house. After dusk he sang and danced in Adhar's drawing-room. M., Rkhl , and other devotees were present. After the music he sat down, still in an ecstatic mood. He said to Rkhl: "This religious fervour is not like rain in the rainy season, which comes in torrents and goes in torrents. It is like an image of iva that has not been set up by human hands but is a natural one that has sprung up, as it were, from the bowels of the earth. The other day you left Dakshineswar in a temper. I prayed to the Divine Mother to forgive you."

1.12 - The Left-Hand Path - The Black Brothers, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
    And the young man answered me: He shall not see the reward; he tendeth the Garden.
    And I said: What shall come unto him?
  --
    All these words are heard by everyone that is called NEMO. And with that doth he apply himself to understanding. And he must understand the virtue of the waters of death, and he must understand the virtue of the sun and of the wind, and of the worm that turneth the earth, and of the stars that roof in the Garden. And he must understand the separate nature and property of every flower, or how shall he tend his garden?
    (Ibid. 13th thyr.)

1.13 - THE MASTER AND M., #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  It was almost dusk when most of the devotees, including Narendra, took leave of the Master. Sri Ramakrishna went out and looked at the Ganges for a few minutes from the west porch. Two priests were bathing in preparation for the evening worship. Young men of the village were strolling in the Garden or standing on the concrete embankment, gazing at the murmuring river. Others, perhaps more thoughtful, were walking about in the solitude of the Panchavati.
  It became dark. The maidservant lighted the lamp in Sri Ramakrishna's room and burnt incense. The evening worship began in the twelve temples of iva and in the shrines of Krishna and Kli.
  --
  While the Master was meditating in this fashion on the Divine Mother, a few devotees, coming in from the Garden, gathered in his room. Sri Ramakrishna sat down on the small couch. He said to the devotees: "Narendra, Bhavanath, Rkhl , and devotees like them belong to the group of the nityasiddhas; they are eternally free. Religious practice on their part is superfluous. Look at Narendra. He doesn't care about anyone. One day he was going with me in Captain's carriage. Captain wanted him to take a good seat, but Narendra didn't even look at him. He is independent even of me. He doesn't tell me all he knows, lest I should praise his scholarship before others. He is free from ignorance and delusion. He has no bonds. He is a great soul. He has many good qualities. He is expert in music, both as a singer and player, and is also a versatile scholar. Again, he keeps his passions under control and says that he will never marry.
  There is a close friendship between Narendra and Bhavanath; they are just like man and woman. Narendra doesn't come here very often. That is good, for I am overwhelmed by his presence."

1.14 - The Structure and Dynamics of the Self, #Aion, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
  Inn, or the Garden of Eden with the Gihon, Pison, Hiddekel,
  and Euphrates), as healing water and consecrated water, etc.
  --
  them of the serpent in the Garden of Eden, and therefore of the
  devil, the tempter, who on their own admission played all sorts

1.15 - LAST VISIT TO KESHAB, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  MASTER (to Keshab): "Why do the members of the Brahmo Samaj dwell so much on God's glories? Is there any great need of repeating such things as 'O God, Thou hast created the moon, the sun, and the stars'? Most people are filled with admiration for the Garden only. How few care to see its owner! Who is greater, the Garden or its owner?
  "After a few drinks at a tavern, do I care to Know how many gallons of wine are stored there? One bottle is enough for me.
  --
  "In order to take full advantage of the dew, the Gardener removes the soil from the Basra rose down to the very root. The plant thrives better on account of the moisture.
  Perhaps that is why you too are being shaken to the very root. (Keshab and the Master laugh.) It may be that you will do tremendous things when you come back.

1.16 - WITH THE DEVOTEES AT DAKSHINESWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  The following morning the Master and M. were talking in the Garden.
  M: "Then I shall stay here."
  --
  It was night. The moon rose, flooding all the quarters with its silvery light. M. was walking alone in the Garden of the temple. On one side of the path stood the Panchavati, the bakul-grove, the nahabat, and the Master's room, and on the other side flowed the Ganges, reflecting millions of broken moons on its rippling surface.
  M. said to himself: "Can one really see God? The Master says it is possible. He says that, if one makes a little effort, then someone comes forward and shows the way. Well, I am married. I have children. Can one realize God in spite of all that?"
  --
  M. selected the nahabat because he had a poetic temperament. From there he could see the sky, the Ganges, the moonlight, and the flowers in the Garden.
  MASTER: "Oh, they'll let you have it. But I suggested the Panchavati because so much contemplation and meditation have been practised there and the name of God has been chanted there so often."
  --
  Late at night M. sat alone in the nahabat. The sky, the river, the Garden, the steeples of the temples; the trees, and the Panchavati were flooded with moonlight. Deep silence reigned everywhere, broken only by the melodious murmuring of the Ganges. M. was meditating on Sri Ramakrishna.
  At three o'clock in the morning M. left his seat. He proceeded toward the Panchavati as Sri Ramakrishna had suggested. He did not care for the nahabat any more and resolved to stay in the hut in the Panchavati.

1.18 - M. AT DAKSHINESWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  Arriving at the Garden, the Master got out of the carriage and accompanied Ram and the other devotees to the sacred tulsi-grove. Standing near it, he said: "How nice! It is a fine place. You can easily meditate on God here."
  Sri Ramakrishna sat down in the house, which stood to the south of the lake. Ram offered him a plate of fruit and sweets which he enjoyed with the devotees. After a short time he went around the Garden.
  Next Sri Ramakrishna proceeded toward Surendra's garden. He walked on foot a little distance and saw a sdhu sitting on a couch under a tree. At once he went up to the holy man and joyfully began a conversation with him.

1.19 - THE MASTER AND HIS INJURED ARM, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  MASTER: "God alone is real, and all else illusory. the Garden and its owner. God and His splendour. But people look at the Garden only. How few seek out the owner!"
  Prayer and discrimination

1.201 - Socrates, #Symposium, #Plato, #Philosophy
  That is quite a long story, she said, but I will tell you all the same. When Aphrodite was born,156 all the gods held a feast. One of those present was Poros157 (Resource), whose mother was Metis158 (Cleverness). When the feast was over, Penia (Poverty) came begging, as happens on these occasions, and she stood by the door. Poros got drunk on the nectar in those days wine did not exist and having wandered into the Garden of Zeus was overcome with drink and went to sleep. Then Penia, because she herself had no resource, thought of a scheme to have a child by Poros, and accordingly she lay down beside him and became pregnant with a son, Love. Because Love was conceived during Aphrodites birthday feast and also because he is by his daimon (the source of English demon), which can mean a god but often denotes a lesser or local deity. Here Diotima characterises Love as a lesser deity, something between a god and a human. The Greeks of Platos day would usually have thought of Love simply as a god, but not one of the most important, Olympian, deities. See Gods and Love in Glossary of names. daimonios, a man of the spirit, spiritual; see footnote 151 above. techne. 154 cheirourgia. 155 banausos (English banausic).
  Diotima appears to follow the story that Aphrodite was the normally-born child of Zeus and

1.20 - ON CHILD AND MARRIAGE, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
  in body and soul. You shall not only reproduce yourself, but produce something higher. May the Garden
  of marriage help you in that

1.20 - RULES FOR HOUSEHOLDERS AND MONKS, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  The magician and his magic. All become speechless with wonder at the magic, but it is all unreal. The magician alone is real. The rich man and his garden. People see only the Garden; they should look for its rich owner."
  MANI MALLICK (to the Master): "What a big electric light they have at the exhibition! It makes us think how great He must be who has made such an electric light."

1.23 - FESTIVAL AT SURENDRAS HOUSE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  SRI RAMAKRISHNA arrived in the morning at the Garden house of Surendra, one of his beloved householder disciples, in the village of Kankurgachi near Calcutta. Surendra had invited him and a large number of the devotees to a religious festival.
  Occasions like this were a source of great happiness and rejoicing to the Master's devotees. He was then seen at his best. He joined with the others in devotional music and in chanting the names of God, frequently going into ecstasy. He poured out his entire soul in inspired talk, explaining the various phases of God-Consciousness. The impressions of such a festival lingered in the minds of all for many days.
  The devotees stood in rows inside the big hall of the Garden house to hear the music sung by the professional singers. The floor of the room was covered with a carpet over which was spread a white sheet; a few bolsters, pillows, and cushions lay here and there.
  Krishna and Gopis at Vrindvan
  --
  At this point Pratap bade the Master good-bye. He did not wait to hear the end of Sri Ramakrishna's words about the renunciation of "woman and gold". Those burning words touched the hearts of the devotees and were carried away on the wind through the gently rustling leaves in the Garden.
  A few minutes later Mani Mallick said to Sri Ramakrishna: "Sir, it is time for you to leave for Dakshineswar. Today Keshab's mother and the other ladies of his family are going to the temple garden to visit you. They will be hurt if they do not find you there."
  --
  MASTER (to Mani Mallick): "Don't hurry me, please. I didn't sleep well. I can't rush. They are going to Dakshineswar. What am I to do about it? They will stroll in the Garden and enjoy it thoroughly."
  After resting a little the Master was ready to leave for Dakshineswar. He was thinking of Surendra's welfare. He visited the different rooms, softly chanting the holy name of God.

1.25 - ADVICE TO PUNDIT SHASHADHAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  All sat in silence. Sri Ramakrishna said to the pundit, "Go and visit the temples and take a stroll in the Garden." It was about half past five in the afternoon. The pundit left the room with his friends and several of the devotees.
  After a while the Master went with M. toward the bathing-ghat on the Ganges. He said to M., "Baburam now says, 'What shall I gain by study?' "On the bank of the river he met the pundit and said to him, "Aren't you going to the Kli temple?" The pundit said: "Yes, sir. Let us go together." With a smiling face Sri Ramakrishna proceeded to the temple through the courtyard. He said to the pundit, "Listen to a song."
  --
  I said to the Divine Mother, 'Mother, shall I too have to pass through such a state?' We all went to see the man. He spoke words of great wisdom to us but behaved like a madman before others. Haladhri followed him a great way when he left the Garden.
  After passing the gate he said to Haladhri: 'What else shall I say to you? When you no longer make any distinction between the water of this pool and the water of the Ganges, then you will know that you have Perfect Knowledge.' Saying this he walked rapidly away."
  --
  "Before meeting Keshab, I asked Narayan Shastri to visit him and tell me what he thought of him. Narayan reported that Keshab was an adept in japa. He knew astrology and remarked that Keshab had been born under a good star. Then I went to visit Keshab in the Garden house at Belgharia. Hriday was with me. The moment I saw Keshab, I said: 'Of all the people I see here, he alone has dropped his tail. He can now live on land as well as in water, like a frog.'
  "Keshab sent three members of the Brahmo Samaj to the temple garden at Dakshineswar to test me. Prasanna was one of them. They were commissioned to watch me day and night, and to report to Keshab. They were in my room and intended to spend the night there. They constantly uttered the word 'Dayamaya' and said to me: 'Follow Keshab Babu. That will do you good.' I said, 'I believe in God with form.' Still they went on with their exclamations of 'Dayamaya!' Then a strange mood came over me. I said to them, 'Get out of here!' I didn't allow them to spend the night in my room.

1.25 - DUNGEON, #Faust, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  And the Garden, brightly blooming,
  Where I and Martha wait thy coming.

1.26 - Continues the description of a method for recollecting the thoughts. Describes means of doing this. This chapter is very profitable for those who are beginning prayer., #The Way of Perfection, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  If you are suffering trials, or are sad, look upon Him on His way to the Garden. What sore
  distress He must have borne in His soul, to describe His own suffering as He did and to complain

1.27 - AT DAKSHINESWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
  It was about five o'clock in the afternoon. Sri Ramakrishna left his room. The devotees were walking in the Garden. Many of them were about to leave.
  The Master was conversing with Hazra on the north verandah. They were talking of Narendra's frequent visits to Annada, the eldest son of the Guhas.
  --
  After the music was over, the Mukherjis were about to take their leave. The Master, too, was ready to go, but he was in an ecstatic mood. On coming to the porch he went into samdhi. The gate-keeper of the Garden house was a pious man. Now and then he invited the Master to his house and fed him. Sri Ramakrishna stood there in samdhi and the gate-keeper fanned him with a large fan. Ratan, the manager of the Garden house, saluted the Master, and Sri Ramakrishna, returning to the consciousness of the relative world, greeted the manager and the gate-keeper, saying, "Narayana". Then, accompanied by the devotees, he went back to the temple-garden through the main gate.
  MASTER (to the Mukherjis, pointing to M.): "Please visit him often."

1.28 - Describes the nature of the Prayer of Recollection and sets down some of the means by which we can make it a habit., #The Way of Perfection, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  to the Father, without wearying the mind by going to seek Him on Mount Calvary, or in the Garden,
  or at the Column.

1.29 - The Myth of Adonis, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
   "A tamarisk that in the Garden has drunk no water,
    Whose crown in the field has brought forth no blossom.
  --
    A herb that in the Garden had drunk no water."
  His death appears to have been annually mourned, to the shrill music

1.30 - Describes the importance of understanding what we ask for in prayer. Treats of these words in the Paternoster: Sanctificetur nomen tuum, adveniat regnum tuum. Applies them to the Prayer of Quiet, and begins the explanation of them., #The Way of Perfection, #Saint Teresa of Avila, #Christianity
  Thou didst address Him in the Garden, telling Him of Thy will and Thy fear, but leaving Thyself
  in His hands. But Thou knowest us, my Lord, and Thou knowest that we are not as resigned as wert

1.32 - The Ritual of Adonis, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
    That every Hyacinth the Garden wears
    Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.

1.33 - The Gardens of Adonis, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  object:1.33 - the Gardens of Adonis
  author class:James George Frazer
  --
  XXXIII. the Gardens of Adonis
  PERHAPS the best proof that Adonis was a deity of vegetation, and
  especially of the corn, is furnished by the Gardens of Adonis, as
  they were called. These were baskets or pots filled with earth, in
  --
  wheat and barley in the Gardens of Adonis was intended to make the
  corn shoot up; and the throwing of the Gardens and of the images
  into the water was a charm to secure a due supply of fertilising
  --
  The opinion that the Gardens of Adonis are essentially charms to
  promote the growth of vegetation, especially of the crops, and that
  --
  by the Gardens of Adonis, which are, so to say, a secondary
  manifestation of his original power as a tree-spirit.
  --
  In Sardinia the Gardens of Adonis are still planted in connexion
  with the great midsummer festival which bears the name of St. John.
  --
  correspondence of these Sardinian pots of grain to the Gardens of
  Adonis seems complete, and the images formerly placed in them answer
  --
  in Catholic and Greek churches on Good Friday, just as the Gardens
  of Adonis were placed on the grave of the dead Adonis. The practice

1.39 - The Ritual of Osiris, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  'for the growth of the Garden is the growth of the divine
  substance.'" On the twenty-second of Khoiak, at the eighth hour, the

1.400 - 1.450 Talks, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
  One day two sisters, who lived by prostitution, walked near the Garden and sat under a tree. One of them said, "How disgusting is my life that
  I soil my body and mind every day. This man's life is most desirable."
  --
  Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi looked so lowly. She pleaded penitence for her past life, desired to lead a purer and nobler life and finished with a prayer to him to accept her humble services in the Garden or attendance on himself. He advised her to return home and lead a normal life. But she protested. So he detained her for watering the tulasi plants. She accepted the function with delight and began to work in the Garden.
  One rainy night this woman was found standing under the eaves of the thatched shed in which the saint was. Her clothes were dripping and she was shivering with cold. The master asked why she was in such a pitiable state. She said that her place was exposed to the rains and so she sought shelter under the eaves and that she would retire as soon as the rain ceased. He asked her to move into the hut and later told her to change her wet clothes. She did not have dry cloth to put on. So he offered her one of his own clothes. She wore it, still later she begged permission to massage his feet. He consented. Eventually they embraced.
  --
  She still continued to work in the Garden.
  Sometimes she used to remain long in her home. Then this man began to visit her there until he finally lived with her. Nevertheless he did not neglect the Garden nor the daily garlands for God. There was public scandal regarding his change of life. God then resolved to restore him to his old ways and so assumed the shape of the saintly devotee himself. He appeared to the dasi and secretly offered her a rich present, an anklet of God.
  She was very pleased with it and hid it under her pillow. He then disappeared. All these were secretly observed by a maid servant in the house.

1.439, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
  One day two sisters, who lived by prostitution, walked near the Garden and sat under a tree. One of them said, How disgusting is my life that
  I soil my body and mind every day. This mans life is most desirable.
  --
  Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi looked so lowly. She pleaded penitence for her past life, desired to lead a purer and nobler life and finished with a prayer to him to accept her humble services in the Garden or attendance on himself. He advised her to return home and lead a normal life. But she protested. So he detained her for watering the tulasi plants. She accepted the function with delight and began to work in the Garden.
  One rainy night this woman was found standing under the eaves of the thatched shed in which the saint was. Her clothes were dripping and she was shivering with cold. The master asked why she was in such a pitiable state. She said that her place was exposed to the rains and so she sought shelter under the eaves and that she would retire as soon as the rain ceased. He asked her to move into the hut and later told her to change her wet clothes. She did not have dry cloth to put on. So he offered her one of his own clothes. She wore it, still later she begged permission to massage his feet. He consented. Eventually they embraced.
  --
  She still continued to work in the Garden.
  Sometimes she used to remain long in her home. Then this man began to visit her there until he finally lived with her. Nevertheless he did not neglect the Garden nor the daily garlands for God. There was public scandal regarding his change of life. God then resolved to restore him to his old ways and so assumed the shape of the saintly devotee himself. He appeared to the dasi and secretly offered her a rich present, an anklet of God.
  She was very pleased with it and hid it under her pillow. He then disappeared. All these were secretly observed by a maid servant in the house.
  --
  He said that they raised in the Garden two crude platforms which were occupied by Himself and Palanisami; they were most comfortable. They were made of straw and bamboo mats and were even more comfortable than the sofa here. Palanisami used to pass through the footpath between rows of prickly pear to bring begged food every night from Kizhnathoor.
  Though Sri Bhagavan protested Palanisami persisted in doing so. He was

1.450 - 1.500 Talks, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
  He said that they raised in the Garden two crude platforms which were occupied by Himself and Palanisami; they were most comfortable. They were made of straw and bamboo mats and were even more comfortable than the sofa here. Palanisami used to pass through the footpath between rows of prickly pear to bring begged food every night from Kizhnathoor.
  Though Sri Bhagavan protested Palanisami persisted in doing so. He was

1.51 - How to Recognise Masters, Angels, etc., and how they Work, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  We drove on a few yards. Then the chauffeur made up him mind to revolt, and stopped the car. On the left was a wide open gate through which we could see a gang of workmen engaged in pretending to repair a ramshackle villa. Virakam called the foreman and asked in broken Italian if the place was to let. He told her no; it was under repair. With crazy confidence she dragged him within and forced him to show her over the house. I sat in resigned disgust, not deigning to follow. Then my eyes suddenly saw down the Garden, two trees close together. I stooped. Their tops appeared. They were Persian Nuts! The stupid coincidence angered me, and yet some irresistible instinct compelled me to take out my note book and pencil and jot down the name written over the gate Villa Caldarazzo. Idly I added up the letters.[108] Their sum struck me like a bullet in my brain. It was 418, the number of the Magical Formula of the Aeon, a numerical hieroglyph of the Great Work. Ab-ul-Diz had made no mistake. My recognition of the right place was not to depend on a mere matter of trees, which might be found almost anywhere. Recognition beyond all possibility of doubt was what he promised. He had been as good as his word.
  I was entirely overwhelmed. I jumped out of the car and ran up to the house. I found Virakam in the main room. The instant I entered I understood that it was entirely suited for a temple. The walls were decorated with crude frescoes which somehow suggested the exact atmosphere proper to the Work. The very shape of the room seemed somehow significant. Further, it seemed as if it were filled with a peculiar emanation. This impression must not be dismissed as sheer fancy. Few men but are sufficiently sensitive to distinguish the spiritual aura of certain buildings. It is impossible not to feel reverence in certain cathedrals and temples. The most ordinary dwelling houses often possess an atmosphere of their own; some depress, some cheer; some disgust, others strike chill to the heart.

1.53 - The Propitation of Wild Animals By Hunters, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  female member of the family, walks all round the Garden dragging a
  broom after her. She may not look behind her, and must keep
  --
  your husb and to church." the Garden gate is left open till the
  following morning.
  --
  her, in order that all the caterpillars might leave the Garden.

1.55 - The Transference of Evil, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  about the Garden." A Northamptonshire, Devonshire, and Welsh cure
  for a cough is to put a hair of the patient's head between two

1.61 - Power and Authority, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  Imagine, if you can, what I have been through in the last quarter of a century or more. My subordinates are always asking me for advancement in the Order; they think that if they were only members of the 266th degree everything in the Garden would be lovely. They think that if they only possessed the secrets of the 148th degree they would be able to perform all those miracles which at present escape them.
  These poor fish! They do not understand the difference between Power and Authority. They do not understand that there are two kinds of degrees, altogether different.

1.62 - The Fire-Festivals of Europe, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  through the Gardens and orchards. As they ran they cried at the
  pitch of their voices:
  --
  smut. They imagined that they did much good to the Gardens and
  caused the onions to grow large. Children ran about the fields,

1.63 - The Interpretation of the Fire-Festivals, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  "medicine is burned on a fire placed to windward of the Garden, the
  fumigation which the plants in consequence receive being held to

1.65 - Balder and the Mistletoe, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
  of making the Gardens bear plentifully. When used for this purpose,
  the leaves are cut up into fine pieces, and, after having been
  --
  with the seed-corn or scattered about the Garden. This is believed
  to guard the food cooked on the hearth from witchcraft, to preserve

1.70 - Morality 1, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  Now then, I hope that we have succeeded in clarifying this exceptionally muddy marish water of morality from most of its alien and toxic dirt; too often the Aspirant to the Sacred Wisdom finds no firm path under his feet; the Bog of Respectability mires him who sought the Garden of Delights; soon the last bubbles burst from his choked lungs; he is engulfed in the Slough of Despond.
  In the passive elements of Earth and Water is no creative virtue to cleanse themselves from such impurity as they chance to acquire; it is therefore of cardinal importance to watch them, guard them, keep their Purity untainted and unsoiled; shall the Holy Grail brim with poison of Asps, and the golden Paten be defiled with the Bread of Iniquity? Come Fire, come Air, cleanse ye and kindle the pure instruments, that Spirit may indwell, inform, inspire the whole, the One Continuous Sacrament of Life!

1951-01-11 - Modesty and vanity - Generosity, #Questions And Answers 1950-1951, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  In Paris there is a garden called the Garden of Plants: there are animals there also, as well as plants. They had just received a magnificent lion. It was of course in a cage. And it was furious. There was a door in the cage behind which it could hide. And it would hide itself just when the visitors came to see it! I saw that and one day I went up to the cage and began speaking to it (animals are very sensitive to spoken language, they really listen). I began speaking softly to my lion, I said to it, Oh! How handsome you are, what a pity that you are hiding yourself like this, how much we would like to see you. Well, it listened. Then, little by little, it looked at me askance, slowly stretched its neck to see me better; later it brought out its paw and, finally, put the tip of its nose against the bars as if saying, At last, heres someone who understands me!
  To be generous

1951-04-14 - Surrender and sacrifice - Idea of sacrifice - Bahaism - martyrdom - Sleep- forgetfulness, exteriorisation, etc - Dreams and visions- explanations - Exteriorisation- incidents about cats, #Questions And Answers 1950-1951, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There are some very remarkable instances of exteriorisation. I am going to tell you two incidents about cats which occurred quite a long time ago in France. One happened very long ago, long before the war even. We used to have small meetings every weekquite a small number of friends, three or four, who discussed philosophy, spiritual experiences, etc. There was a young boy, a poet, but one who was rather light-hearted; he was very intelligent, he was a student in Paris. He used to come regularly to these meetings (they took place on Wednesday evenings) and one evening he did not come. We were surprised; we had met him a few days before and he had said he would comehe did not come. We waited quite a long time, the meeting was over and at the time of leaving I opened the door to let people out (it was at my house that these meetings were held), I opened the door and there before it sat a big dark grey cat which rushed into the room like mad and jumped upon me, like this, mewing desperately. I looked into its eyes and told myself, Well, these are so-and-sos eyes (the one who was to come). I said, Surely something has happened to him. And the next day we learnt that he had been assassinated that night; the next morning he had been found lying strangled on his bed. This is the first story. The other happened long afterwards, at the time of the war the First [World] War, not the Second the war of the trenches. There was a young man I knew very well; he was a poet and artist (I have already spoken about him), who had gone to the war. He had enlisted, he was very young; he was an officer. He had given me his photograph. (This boy was a student of Sanskrit and knew Sanskrit very well, he liked Buddhism very much; indeed he was much interested in things of the spirit, he was not an ordinary boy, far from it.) He had given me his photograph on which there was a sentence in Sanskrit written in his own hand, very well written. I had framed this photograph and put it above a sort of secretaire (a rather high desk with drawers); well, above it I had hung this photograph. And at that time it was very difficult to receive news, one did not know very well what was happening. From time to time we used to receive letters from him, but for a long time there had been nothing, when, one day, I came into my room, and the moment I entered, without any apparent reason the photograph fell from the wall where it had been well fixed, and the glass broke with a great clatter. I felt a little anxious, I said, There is something wrong. But we had no news. Two or three days later (it was on the first floor; I lived in a house with one room upstairs, all the rest on the ground-floor, and there was a flight of steps leading to the Garden) I opened the entrance door and a big grey cat rushed inlight grey, this timea magnificent cat, and, just as the other one had done, it flung itself upon me, like this, mewing. I looked into its eyeshad the eyes of that boy. And this cat, it turned and turned around me and all the time tugged at my dress and miaowed. I wanted to put it out, but it would not go, it settled down there and did not want to move. The next day it was announced in the papers that this boy had been found dead between two trenches, dead for three days. That is, at the time he must have died his photograph had fallen. The consciousness had left the body completely: he was there abandoned, because they did not always go to see what was happening between the trenches; they could not, you understand; he was found two or three days later; at that time probably he had gone out altogether from his body and wanted definitely to inform me about what had happened and he had found that cat. For cats live in the vital being, they have a very developed vital consciousness and can easily be taken possession of by vital forces.
   But these two examples are quite extraordinary, for they both came about almost in the same way, and in both instances the eyes of these cats had completely changed they had become human eyes.

1953-10-21, #Questions And Answers 1953, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If you ask me, I believe that all those who produce something artistic are artists! A word depends upon the way it is used, upon what one puts into it. One may put into it all that one wants. For instance, in Japan there are gardeners who spend their time correcting the forms of trees so that in the landscape they make a beautiful picture. By all kinds of trimmings, props, etc. they adjust the forms of trees. They give them special forms so that each form may be just what is needed in the landscape. A tree is planted in a garden at the spot where it is needed and moreover, it is given the form thats required for it to go well with the whole set-up. And they succeed in doing wonderful things. You have but to take a photograph of the Garden, it is a real picture, it is so good. Well, I certainly call the man an artist. One may call him a gardener but he is an artist. All those who have a sure and developed sense of harmony in all its forms, and the harmony of all the forms among themselves, are necessarily artists, whatever may be the type of their production.
   You did not finish telling us about Rama and Hanuman.

1954-07-14 - The Divine and the Shakti - Personal effort - Speaking and thinking - Doubt - Self-giving, consecration and surrender - Mothers use of flowers - Ornaments and protection, #Questions And Answers 1954, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  Flowers? You ought to keep them as long as they are fresh, and when they are no longer so, you must collect them and give them to the Gardener (any gardener you know), so that he can put them in the earth to produce other flowers. Yes, one must give back to the earth what it has given us, for otherwise it will become poor.
  Mother, certain flowers come in a particular season; does this mean that during that season a greater force is at work?

1955-03-23 - Procedure for rejection and transformation - Learning by heart, true understanding - Vibrations, movements of the species - A cat and a Russian peasant woman - A cat doing yoga, #Questions And Answers 1955, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  I had a catin those days I used to sleep on the floorwhich always came and slipped under the mosquito-net and slept beside me. Well, this cat slept quite straight, it did not sleep as cats do; it put its head here and then lay down like this (gesture), alongside my legs with its two forepaws like this, and its two little hind legs quite straight. And there was something very, very curious about it which I saw one night, like that. I used to ask myself why it was like this, and one night I saw a little Russian woman of the people with a fur bonnet and three little children, and this woman had a kind of adoration for her children and always wanted to look for a shelter for them; I dont know, I dont know the story, but I saw that she had her three little children, very small ones, with her one like this, one like that, one like that (Mother shows the difference in height), and she was dragging them along with her and looking for a corner to put them in safety. Something must have happened to her, she must have died suddenly with a kind of very animal maternal instinct of a certain kind, but all full of fearfear, anguish and worry and this something must have come from there and in some way or other had reincarnated. It was a movementit was not a person, you know, it was a movement which belonged to this person and must have come up in the cat. It was there for some reason or other, you see, I dont know how it happened, I know nothing about it, but this cat was completely human in its ways. And very soon afterwards it had three kittens, like that; and it was extraordinary, it didnt want to leave them, it refused to leave them, it was entirely it did not eat, did not go to satisfy its needs, it was always with its young. When one day it had an ideanobody had said anything, of courseit took one kitten, as they take them, by the skin of the neck, and came and put it between my feet; I did not stir; it returned, took the second, put it there; it took the third, it put it there, and when all three were there, it looked at me, mewed and was gone. And this was the first time it went out after having had them; it went to the Garden, went to satisfy its needs and to eat, because it was at peace, they were there between my feet. And when it had its young, it wanted to carry them on its back like a woman. And when it slept beside me, it slept on the back. It was never like a cat.
  Well, these things are habits of the species, movements of the species. There are many others of the kind, you see, but this is an example.

1957-03-15 - Reminiscences of Tlemcen, #Questions And Answers 1957-1958, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  When I used to go out in the eveningstowards the end of the afternoon I used to go for a walk with Monsieur X to see the countryside, go walking in the mountains, the neighbouring villages I used to lock my door; it was a habit with me, I always locked my door. Madame X would rarely go out, for the reasons I have already mentioned, because she was in a trance most of the time and liked to stay at home. But when I returned from the walk and opened my doorwhich was locked, and therefore nobody could have entered I would always find a kind of little garl and of flowers on my pillow. They were flowers which grew in the Garden, they are called Belles de Nuit;2 we have them here, they open in the evening and have a wonderful fragrance. There was a whole alley of them, with big bushes as high as this; they are remarkable flowers I believe its the same hereon the same bush there are different coloured flowers: yellow, red, mixed, violet. They are tiny flowers like bluebells; no, rather like the convolvulus, but these grow on bushesconvolvulus is a creeper, these are busheswe have some here in the Garden. She always used to put some behind her ears, for they have a lovely smell, oh! delightfully beautiful. And so, she used to take a walk in the alley between these big bushes which were quite high, and she gathered flowers, andwhen I came back, these flowers were in my room! She never told me how she did it, but she certainly did not go in there. Once she said to me, Were there no flowers in your room?Ah! yes, indeed, I said. And that was all. Then I knew it was she who had put them there.
  I could tell you many stories, but I shall finish with this one she had told me, which I did not see myself.

1962 02 27, #On Thoughts And Aphorisms, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But for more subtle things, the method is to make for yourself an exact image of what you want, to come into contact with the corresponding vibration, and then to concentrate and do exercisessuch as to practise seeing through an object or hearing through a sound,1 or seeing at a distance. For example, once, for a long time, for several months, I was confined to bed and I found it rather boring I wanted to see. I was in a room and at one end there was another little room and at the end of the little room there was a kind of bridge; in the middle of the Garden the bridge became a staircase leading down into a very big and very beautiful studio, standing in the middle of the Garden. I wanted to go and see what was happening in the studio, for I was feeling bored in my room. So I would remain very quiet, close my eyes and send out my consciousness, little by little, little by little, little by little. And day after day I chose a fixed time and did the exercise regularly. At first you make use of your imagination and then it becomes a fact. After some time I really had the physical sensation that my vision was moving; I followed it and then I could see things downstairs which I knew nothing about. I would check afterwards. In the evening I would ask, Was this like that? And was that like this?
   But for each one of these things you must practise for months with patience, with a kind of obstinacy. You take the senses one by one, hearing, sight, and you can even arrive at subtle realities of taste, smell and touch.

1970 04 17, #On Thoughts And Aphorisms, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   477When will the world change into the model of heaven? When all mankind becomes boys and girls together with God revealed as Krishna and Kali, the happiest boy and strongest girl of the crowd, playing together in the Gardens of Paradise. The Semitic Eden was well enough, but Adam and Eve were too grown up and its God Himself too old and stern and solemn for the offer of the Serpent to be resisted.
   478The Semites have afflicted mankind with the conception of a God who is a stern and dignified king and solemn judge and knows not mirth. But we who have seen Krishna, know Him for a boy fond of play and a child full of mischief and happy laughter.

1.ac - The Garden of Janus, #Crowley - Poems, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
  object:1.ac - the Garden of Janus
  author class:Aleister Crowley

1.anon - The Epic of Gilgamesh TabletIX, #Anonymous - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   (25 lines are missing here, describing the Garden in detail.]
   cedar

1.anon - The Poem of Imru-Ul-Quais, #Anonymous - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  On the morning of our separation it was as if I stood in the Gardens of our tribe,
  Amid the acacia-shrubs where my eyes were blinded with tears by the smart
  --
  In the Gardens of Taimaa not a date-tree was left standing,
  Nor a building, except those strengthened with heavy stones.

1.bs - The soil is in ferment, O friend, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
   English version by J. R. Puri and T. R. Shangari Original Language Punjabi The soil is in ferment, O friend Behold the diversity. The soil is the horse, so is the rider The soil chases the soil, and we hear the clanging of soil The soil kills the soil, with weapons of the soil. That soil with more on it, is arrogance The soil is the Garden so is its beauty The soil admires the soil in all its wondrous forms After the circle of life is done it returns to the soil Answer the riddle O Bulleh, and take this burden off my head." [bk1sm.gif] -- from Bulleh Shah: The Love-Intoxicated Iconoclast (Mystics of the East series), by J. R. Puri / Tilaka Raja Puri <
1.cs - We were enclosed (from Prayer 20), #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
   English version by Suzanne Noffke, O.P. We were enclosed, O eternal Father, within the Garden of your breast. You drew us out of your holy mind like a flower petaled with our soul's three powers, and into each power you put the whole plant, so that they might bear fruit in your garden, might come back to you with the fruit you gave them. And you would come back to the soul, to fill her with your blessedness. There the soul dwells -- like the fish in the sea and the sea in the fish. [1469.jpg] -- from Women in Praise of the Sacred: 43 Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women, Edited by Jane Hirshfield <
1f.lovecraft - At the Mountains of Madness, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   of the Garden of the Gods in Colorado, or the fantastically symmetrical
   wind-carved rocks of the Arizona desert. Perhaps we even half thought

1f.lovecraft - Celephais, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   the fragrant summer night, through the Gardens, down the terraces, past
   the great oaks of the park, and along the long white road to the

1f.lovecraft - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   the Garden of Gethsemane to the Cross on the Hill of Golgotha; an
   artful piece of Statuary, Worthy to be seen by the Curious. It was on

1f.lovecraft - The Doom That Came to Sarnath, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   Wonderful likewise were the Gardens made by Zokkar the olden king. In
   the centre of Sarnath they lay, covering a great space and encircled by
  --
   stars and planets when it was not clear. In summer the Gardens were
   cooled with fresh odorous breezes skilfully wafted by fans, and in
  --
   roses from the Gardens of Zokkar. And the kings would look out over the
   lake and curse the bones of the dead that lay beneath it. At first the

1f.lovecraft - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   northward through the Garden lands by Oukranos to the gilded spires of
   Thran, where he might find a galleon bound over the Cerenerian Sea.
  --
   over the Garden and the city, and the answer of the horns and viols and
   voices peals out from the seven lodges by the Garden gates, there issue
   from the seven doors of the temple long columns of masked and hooded
  --
   permitted to do that. But before he left the Garden the hour of the
   bell came, and he heard the shivering clang deafeningly above him, and
  --
   black arch and emerged in the Gardens of the monarchs pleasure. There
   Carter paused in faintness at so much of beauty; for the onyx terraces
  --
   wood and the Garden lands and the Cerenerian Sea and the twilight
   reaches of Inganok, the crawling chaos Nyarlathotep strode brooding

1f.lovecraft - The Haunter of the Dark, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   leaves came out on the Garden boughs the world was filled with a new
   beauty, but Blakes restlessness was merely increased. It was then that
  --
   leaves from the trees and blasted the plants in the Gardens. It was
   agreed that the lone, sudden lightning-bolt must have struck somewhere

1f.lovecraft - The Last Test, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   It was a sunny day, and she had been in the Garden gathering flowers
   for the dining-room. Re-entering the house, she glimpsed her brother in

1f.lovecraft - The Mound, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   tribunal in the gold-and-copper palace behind the Gardened and
   fountained park, and the Spaniard was given his liberty because of the

1f.lovecraft - The Quest of Iranon, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   crystal fountains. Often I played in the Gardens and waded in the
   pools, and lay and dreamed among the pale flowers under the trees. And

1f.lovecraft - The Shadow out of Time, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   levels, and wide cleared spaces amidst the Gardens. The great roads
   held hints of motion, but in the earlier visions I could not resolve

1f.lovecraft - The Shunned House, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   unwholesome vegetation of the Garden, examining all the walls of the
   building, and poring over every inch of the earthen cellar floor.

1f.lovecraft - The White Ship, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   of gold. In the Gardens of these cities are strange orchids, and
   perfumed lakes whose beds are of coral and amber. At night the streets
   and the Gardens are lit with gay lanthorns fashioned from the
   three-coloured shell of the tortoise, and here resound the soft notes

1f.lovecraft - What the Moon Brings, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
   the dead faces, I saw that the Garden had no end under that moon; for
   where by day the walls were, there stretched now only new vistas of

1.fs - The Walk, #Schiller - Poems, #Friedrich Schiller, #Poetry
   Now far behind me is left the Gardens' and hedges' sure escort,
   Every trace of man's hand also remains far behind.

1.fua - The Pupil asks- the Master answers, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
   English version by Raficq Abdulla Original Language Persian/Farsi 'Why was Adam driven from the Garden?' The pupil asked his master. 'His heart was hardened With images, a hundred bonds that clutter the earth Chained Adam to the cycle of death following birth. He was blind to this equation, living for something other Than God and so out of paradise he was driven With his mortal body's cover his soul was shriven. Noblest of God's creatures, Adam fell with blame, Like a moth shriveled by the candle's flame, Into history which taught mankind shame. Since Adam had not given up his heart To God's attachment, there was no part For Adam in paradise where the only friend Is God; His will is not for Adam to imagine and bend.' [1490.jpg] -- from The Conference of the Birds: The Selected Sufi Poetry of Farid ud-Din Attar, Translated by Raficq Abdulla <
1.hs - O Cup Bearer, #Hafiz - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Oh wind, if thou passest the Garden close
  Of my heart's dear master, carry for me

1.hs - Sweet Melody, #Hafiz - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Come with us to the tavern if the Garden of Eden thou pine for;
  So thee, we may cast at once into the pool of abundance galore.

1.hs - The Garden, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
  object:1.hs - the Garden
  author class:Hafiz
  --
   English version by Rober Bly Original Language Persian/Farsi the Garden is breathing out the air of Paradise today, Toward me, a friend with a sweet nature, and this wine. It's all right for the beggar to brag that he is a King today. His royal tent is a shadow thrown by a cloud; his throne room is a sown field. This meadow is composing a tale of a spring day in May; The serious man lets the future go and accepts the cash now. Do you really believe your enemy will be faithful to you? The candle the hermit lights goes out in the worldly church. Make your soul strong then by feeding it the secret wine. When we have turned to dust, this rotten world will press our dust into bricks. My life is a black book. But don't rebuke me too much. No person can ever read the words written on his own forehead. When Hafez's coffin comes by, it'll be all right to follow behind. Although he is a captive of sin, he is on his way to the Garden. [2402.jpg] -- from The Soul is Here for its Own Joy: Sacred Poems from Many Cultures, Edited by Robert Bly <
1.ia - In The Mirror Of A Man, #Arabi - Poems, #Ibn Arabi, #Sufism
  through the Garden's
  flowers as they blossom.

1.ia - In the Mirror of a Man, #Arabi - Poems, #Ibn Arabi, #Sufism
   English version by Michael A. Sells Original Language Arabic She said: I wondered at a love that struts its glory through the Garden's flowers as they blossom. I said: don't wonder at what you see. You see yourself in the mirror of a man. [2240.jpg] -- from Stations of Desire: Love Elegies from Ibn 'Arabi and New Poems, by Michael A. Sells <
1.jk - Isabella; Or, The Pot Of Basil - A Story From Boccaccio, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  Of the Garden-terrace, towards him they bent
  Their footing through the dews; and to him said,

1.jk - Ode On A Grecian Urn, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  There is some reason for thinking that the particular urn which inspired this beautiful poem is a somewhat weather-beaten work in marble still preserved in the Garden of Holland House, and figured in Piranesi's Vasi e Candelabri.
  (stanza 5):

1.jk - Ode To Psyche, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
   With all the Gardener Fancy e'er could feign,
     Who breeding flowers, will never breed the same:

1.jk - Robin Hood, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  The Sonnets in question were published in the Garden of Florence &c. (1821).' ~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

1.jk - Sonnet V. To A Friend Who Sent Me Some Roses, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  I thought the Garden-rose it far excelled;
  But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me,

1.jk - Sonnet. Written In Answer To A Sonnet By J. H. Reynolds, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
  'The sonnet of John Hamilton Reynolds to which this is a reply appeared in 1821 in the Garden of Florence &c. From a letter signed "A. J. Horwood" which was published in The Anthenoeum of the 3rd of June 1876, it would seem that this poem, like many others, must have been written out more than once by Keats; for, in a copy of the Garden of Florence mentioned in that letter, Keats's sonnet is transcribed, seemingly, from a different manuscript from that used by Lord Houghton when he gave the sonnet in the Life, Letters and Literary Remains (Vol. II, page 295) in 1848. ...Lord Houghton dates the sonnet February 1818.'
  ~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

1.jlb - Simplicity, #Borges - Poems, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
  It opens, the gate to the Garden
  with the docility of a page

1.jlb - The Golem, #Borges - Poems, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
  There in the Garden. The corrosive rust
  Of sin (cabalists say) has long effaced

1.jr - A Moment Of Happiness, #Rumi - Poems, #Jalaluddin Rumi, #Poetry
  you and I, with the Garden's beauty
  and the birds singing.

1.jr - Book 1 - Prologue, #Rumi - Poems, #Jalaluddin Rumi, #Poetry
  When the rose has faded and the Garden is withered,
  The song of the nightingale is no longer to be heard.

1.jr - You are closer to me than myself (Ghazal 2798), #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
   English version by Azima Melita Kolin and Maryam Mafi Original Language Persian/Farsi & Turkish My love, you are closer to me than myself, you shine through my eyes. Your light is brighter than the Moon. Step into the Garden so all the flowers, even the tall poplar can kneel before your beauty. Let your voice silence the lily famous for its hundred tongues. When you want to be kind you are softer than the soul but when you withdraw you can be so cold and harsh. Dear one, you can be wild and rebellious but when you meet him face to face his charm will make you docile like the earth. Throw away your shield and bare your chest there is no stronger protection than him. That's why when the dervish withdraws from the world he covers all the cracks in the wall, so the outside light cannot come though. He knows that only the inner light illuminates his world. [2296.jpg] -- from Rumi: Hidden Music, Translated by Azima Melita Kolin / Translated by Maryam Mafi <
1.jwvg - Authors, #Goethe - Poems, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  And through the Garden-walks straying,
  He plucks the flowers that fairest seem;

1.jwvg - Presence, #Goethe - Poems, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  When in the Garden thou walk'st,
  Thou then art the rose of all roses,

1.jwvg - To My Friend - Ode I, #Goethe - Poems, #Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, #Poetry
  Tree, thank the Gardener
  Who moves thee hence!

1.kbr - Do Not Go To The Garden Of Flowers, #Songs of Kabir, #Kabir, #Sufism
  object:1.kbr - Do Not Go To the Garden Of Flowers
  author class:Kabir
  --
  Do not go to the Garden of flowers!
  Do not go to the Garden of flowers!
  O Friend! go not there;
  In your body is the Garden of flowers.
  Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus,

1.kbr - Do not go to the garden of flowers!, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
  object:1.kbr - Do not go to the Garden of flowers!
  author class:Kabir
  --
   English version by Rabindranath Tagore Original Language Hindi Do not go to the Garden of flowers! O friend! go not there; In your body is the Garden of flowers. Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus, and there gaze on the Infinite Beauty. [bk1sm.gif] -- from One Hundred Poems of Kabir: Translated by Rabindranath Tagore, by Kabir / Translated by Rabindranath Tagore <
1.lb - Old Poem, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
       the Gardener was Marquis of Tung-Ling.
      If this is the fate of fame and power,

1.lb - Poem by The Bridge at Ten-Shin, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
  To the mad chase through the Gardens.
  Night and day are given over to pleasure

1.lb - Spring Night In Lo-Yang Hearing A Flute, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
  who could help but long for the Gardens of home?
   by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

1.lb - The River Song, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
  For the Gardens at Jo-run are full of new nighting-
       gales,

1.lla - I, Lalla, willingly entered through the garden-gate, #unset, #Anonymous, #Various
  object:1.lla - I, Lalla, willingly entered through the Garden-gate
  author class:Lalla
  --
   English version by B. N. Paramoo Original Language Kashmiri I, Lalla, willingly entered through the Garden-gate, There, O Joy! I found Siva united with Sakti; There and then I got absorbed drinking at the Lake of Nectar. Immune to harm am I, dead as I am to the world, though still alive. [bk1sm.gif] -- from The Ascent of Self: A Reinterpretation of the Mystical Poetry of Lalla-Ded, by B. N. Paramoo <
1.lovecraft - Fungi From Yuggoth, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  XVIII. the Gardens of Yin
  Beyond that wall, whose ancient masonry

1.lovecraft - Nathicana, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
          I yearn for the Gardens of Zais;      
          The lovely, lost garden of Zais        
  --
          Once more shall the Gardens of Zais      
          Dawn white on my long-tortur'd vision,    

1.lovecraft - The Cats, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  Yelling the Garden of Pluto's red rune.
  Tall towers and pyramids ivy'd and crumbling,

1.lovecraft - The City, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  And the Gardens were fragrant and bright with strange miracles blossoming there.
                                        

1.lovecraft - The Garden, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
  object:1.lovecraft - the Garden
  author class:H P Lovecraft
  --
   For I know the flow'rs are shrivell'd hopes - the Garden is my heart.

WORDNET














IN WEBGEN [10000/509]

Wikipedia - Adam-ondi-Ahman -- Historic site in Daviess County, Missouri, U.S.; according to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS Church), the site where Adam and Eve lived after being expelled from the Garden of Eden
Wikipedia - Agony in the Garden (anonymous) -- Early 15th-century French painting
Wikipedia - Agony in the Garden (Blake)
Wikipedia - Agony in the Garden
Wikipedia - Car, the Garden -- South Korean singer
Wikipedia - Christ the Gardener -- Painting by Edouard Manet
Wikipedia - Come Into the Garden, Maud (play) -- Play by NoM-CM-+l Coward
Wikipedia - Delights of the Garden -- 2002 album by Desmond Williams
Wikipedia - Demons in the Garden -- 1982 Spanish film by Manuel Gutierrez Aragon
Wikipedia - Draft:The Garden Terrace -- Painting by Caspar David Friedrich
Wikipedia - Garden Route National Park -- Coastal national park in the Garden Route region of the Western Cape and Eastern Cape provinces in South Africa
Wikipedia - Guerrilla gardening -- Act of gardening on land that the gardeners do not have the legal rights to cultivate
Wikipedia - In the Garden of Beasts -- Book by Erik Larson
Wikipedia - List of Over the Garden Wall characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Memory of the Garden at Etten (Ladies of Arles) -- Oil painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Out in the Garden
Wikipedia - Over the Garden Wall (1919 film) -- 1919 silent romantic comedy film by David Smith
Wikipedia - Over the Garden Wall (1950 film) -- 1950 British comedy film directed by John E. Blakeley
Wikipedia - Over the Garden Wall -- American animated television miniseries
Wikipedia - Phocas the Gardener
Wikipedia - Round and Round the Garden -- Traditional song
Wikipedia - Serenus the Gardener
Wikipedia - The Garden (2017 film) -- 2017 film
Wikipedia - The Garden (band) -- American experimental rock band
Wikipedia - The Gardener (1912 film) -- 1912 film
Wikipedia - The Gardener (Arcimboldo) -- Painting by Giuseppe Arcimboldo
Wikipedia - The Gardener (ballad) -- English ballad, Child no. 219
Wikipedia - The Gardeners Dictionary -- Series of books by botanist Philip Miller
Wikipedia - The Gardener's Magazine -- First periodical devoted to horticulture
Wikipedia - The Garden Left Behind -- 2019 film directed by Flavio Alves
Wikipedia - The Garden Murder Case (film) -- 1936 film by Edwin L. Marin
Wikipedia - The Garden of Allah (1916 film) -- 1916 film by Colin Campbell
Wikipedia - The Garden of Allah (1927 film) -- 1927 film by Rex Ingram
Wikipedia - The Garden of Allah (1936 film) -- 1936 film by Richard Boleslawski
Wikipedia - The Garden of Cyrus -- Discourse by Thomas Browne
Wikipedia - The Garden of Earthly Delights -- Medieval triptych painting by Hieronymus Bosch
Wikipedia - The Garden of Eden (1928 film) -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - The Garden of Eden (1984 film) -- 1984 short film
Wikipedia - The Garden of Eden (song) -- Song
Wikipedia - The Garden of Forking Paths
Wikipedia - The Garden of Love (poem)
Wikipedia - The Garden of Sinners -- 1998-1999 Japanese light novel series by Kinoko Nasu
Wikipedia - The Garden of the Gods -- Autobiographical book by naturalist and author, Gerald Durrell
Wikipedia - The Garden of the Prophet
Wikipedia - The Garden of Weeds -- 1924 film by James Cruze
Wikipedia - The Garden of Women -- Film directed by Keisuke Kinoshita
Wikipedia - The Garden of Words -- 2013 Japanese anime film
Wikipedia - The Gardens Ice House -- Skating and fitness facility in Laurel, Maryland, U.S.
Wikipedia - The Gardens of Light -- 1991 novel by Amin Maalouf
Wikipedia - The Gardens of Murcia (1923 film) -- 1923 film
Wikipedia - The Gardens of the American Rose Center -- Rose garden in Shreveport, Louisiana
Wikipedia - The Garden Spider -- 1952 film
Wikipedia - The Garden: Visions of Paradise -- 1994 book by Gabrielle van Zuylen
Wikipedia - The Garden Was Full of Moon -- 2000 film
Wikipedia - The Garden Weasel -- The Garden Weasel
Wikipedia - The God in the Garden -- 1921 film
Wikipedia - The Machine in the Garden
Wikipedia - The Porter Garden Telescope -- Ornamental telescope for the garden
Wikipedia - Tsitsikamma National Park -- A protected area on the Garden Route, Western Cape and Eastern Cape, South Africa
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/19584878-a-walk-in-the-garden-of-time
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2001686.The_Garden_in_the_City
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20108420-the-witch-in-the-garden
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20612644-the-garden-plot
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20644398-here-in-the-garden
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20737547-sticks-n-stones-and-the-garden-of-phea
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2079538.The_Garden_of_Last_Days
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20821285.The_Garden_of_Letters
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20821285-the-garden-of-letters
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20890583-the-garden-of-words
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/20997070-wiggley-wilberts-adventures-in-the-garden
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/212933.The_Gardens_of_Light
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21827889-dandelions-in-the-garden
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21945966-the-garden-of-good-and-evil-pancakes
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/2225979.Hydriotaphia_The_Garden_of_Cyrus
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22716567-the-garden-classroom
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/22739218-the-garden-of-good-and-evil-pancakes
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https://greekmythology.wikia.org/wiki/File:Heracles_in_the_Garden_of_the_Hesperides.jpeg
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Biblical_creation_account#Adam_and_Eve.2C_and_the_Garden_of_Eden
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Christian_Naturism#The_Garden_of_Eden
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Our_Lady_the_Garden_Enclosed
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Talk:The_Garden_of_Cyrus
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus#External_links
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus#Overview
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus#Preface_to_Patron
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus#Summary
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Cyrus#Text
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/File:Folio_25v_-_The_Garden_of_Eden.jpg
https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Over_the_Garden_Wall
Over the garden wall (2014 - 2014) - an American animated television miniseries created by Patrick McHale for Cartoon Network
Fifi and the Flowertots (2006 - 2010) - a British stop-motion children's television series created by Keith Chapman and produced by Chapman Entertainment. The series originally aired on Five in the United Kingdom.It features a group of flower-based characters and their adventures and activities through the garden. The title character and...
Heaven's Memo Pad (2011 - 2011) - Narumi Fujishima isn't your typical high school student. He's never really fit in and has become increasingly more isolated from his fellow classmates. But he's not alone, and when Ayaka, the sole member of the Gardening Club, introduces him to the reclusive girl who lives above the ramen shop, Naru...
EDtv(1999) - The turning point in the life of Ed Pekurny (Matthew McConaughey) comes thanks to the misfortunes of the NorthWest Broadcasting Company. After two years on the air, their flagship cable channel, True TV, has slid into obscurity due to competition from the The Gardening Channel. Program director Cynt...
Gorilla at Large(1954) - At sinister carnival The Garden of Evil, the main attraction is Goliath, "world's largest gorilla...cost the lives of 1,000 men before his capture." Barker Joey Matthews is about to enter the gorilla act, teamed with seductive mantrap Laverne, the owner's wife. Then a man is found dead of a broken n...
It Was My Best Birthday Ever, Charlie Brown(1997) - his special begins with Linus roller blading around town. He roller skates to a birthday party and back. On his way home, he passes a garden, and hears a beautiful singing voice. He enters the garden to find the source of the beautiful voice, and finds a little girl singing (a version of "Mio Babbin...
The Garden(2006) - A troubled young boy and his father on a road trip stumble upon a rural farm where the elderly owner has sinister plans for the both of them involving witchcraft and evil.
Tim(1979) - A mentally retarded young Australian gardener becomes lovers with a somewhat older American businesswoman after he is engaged to work in the garden of her home.
https://myanimelist.net/anime/36803/Servamp_Movie__Alice_in_the_Garden -- Action, Comedy, Supernatural, Drama, Vampire, Josei
https://myanimelist.net/manga/23947/Kara_no_Kyoukai__The_Garden_of_Sinners
https://myanimelist.net/manga/84999/Kara_no_Kyoukai__Shuumatsu_Rokuon_The_Garden_of_Oblivion
Fireflies in the Garden (2008) ::: 6.5/10 -- R | 1h 39min | Drama | 17 July 2008 (Greece) -- The Taylor family is devastated by an accident that takes place on the day their matriarch is due to graduate from college -- decades after leaving to raise her children. Director: Dennis Lee Writers:
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (1997) ::: 6.6/10 -- R | 2h 35min | Crime, Drama, Mystery | 21 November 1997 (USA) -- A visiting city reporter's assignment suddenly revolves around the murder trial of a local millionaire, whom he befriends. Director: Clint Eastwood Writers: John Berendt (book), John Lee Hancock (screenplay)
Over the Garden Wall ::: TV-PG | 1h 50min | Animation, Adventure, Drama | TV Mini-Series (2014) Episode Guide 10 episodes Over the Garden Wall Poster -- Two brothers find themselves lost in a mysterious land and try to find their way home. Creators: Katie Krentz, Patrick McHale
The Garden of Words (2013) ::: 7.5/10 -- Koto no ha no niwa (original title) -- The Garden of Words Poster -- A 15-year-old boy and 27-year-old woman find an unlikely friendship one rainy day in the Shinjuku Gyoen National Garden. Director: Makoto Shinkai Writer:
Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit (2005) ::: 7.4/10 -- The Curse of the Were-Rabbit (original title) -- Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit Poster -- Wallace and his loyal dog, Gromit, set out to discover the mystery behind the garden sabotage that plagues their village and threatens the annual giant vegetable growing contest. Directors: Steve Box, Nick Park Writers:
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Futari wa Precure -- -- Toei Animation -- 49 eps -- Original -- Action Comedy Magic Fantasy Shoujo -- Futari wa Precure Futari wa Precure -- Futari wa Precure protagonists Nagisa Misumi and Honoka Yukishiro are about as different as two people can get. Nagisa is the captain of the lacrosse team, a lover of food, and a hater of homework. Honoka loves to learn, working with the science club and earning the nickname "The Queen of Knowledge" from her fellow classmates. Their lives are unconnected until one day, when a mysterious star shower unites them. -- -- Nagisa and Honoka meet Mipple and Mepple, two residents of the Garden of Light. Their homeland has been conquered by the evil forces of the Dark Zone who now have their sights set on the Garden of Rainbows: Earth. With powers from the Garden of Light, Nagisa becomes Cure Black and Honoka becomes Cure White. Together, they are Pretty Cure! Now Pretty Cure must locate the Prism Stones, the only power strong enough to defeat the Dark Zone and repair the damage done to the Garden of Light. Will these magical girls be able to protect their home from the evil that threatens it? Or will they be sucked into the darkness? -- -- Licensor: -- 4Kids Entertainment -- 36,291 7.00
Futari wa Precure: Max Heart -- -- Toei Animation -- 47 eps -- Original -- Action Comedy Fantasy Magic Shoujo -- Futari wa Precure: Max Heart Futari wa Precure: Max Heart -- Shortly after the fall of the Wicked King, the Queen of the Garden of Light lost her memory and came to Earth, in the form of a 12-year-old girl named Hikari Kujou. Now, she—with the help of Nagisa and Honoka, endowed with new costumes and powers—must find the 12 Heartiels, which hold the key to restoring the Queen's lost memories. For together once again, they are Pretty Cure. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- TV - Feb 6, 2005 -- 13,879 6.93
Hino Hideshi Toukaidou Yotsuya Kaidan -- -- - -- 1 ep -- - -- Horror -- Hino Hideshi Toukaidou Yotsuya Kaidan Hino Hideshi Toukaidou Yotsuya Kaidan -- Based on Kaidan Yotsuya (Classic Japanese ghost story). -- OVA - Jul 20, 2000 -- 548 N/A -- -- Inagawa Junji no Sugoku Kowai Hanashi -- -- - -- 10 eps -- Book -- Horror Supernatural -- Inagawa Junji no Sugoku Kowai Hanashi Inagawa Junji no Sugoku Kowai Hanashi -- Short ghost stories by Inagawa Junji, an entertainer who is famous for his horror stories broadcasted on late night radio. He has gone on to write horror novels and directing live-action horror dramas and films. The anime is a spin-off of his Inagawa Junji no Chou: Kowai Hanashi (Inagawa Junji's Super Scary Stories) live-action direct-to-DVD series. -- ONA - Sep 5, 2017 -- 530 N/A -- -- Kyoufu Shinbun -- -- Studio Pierrot -- 2 eps -- Manga -- Horror Shounen -- Kyoufu Shinbun Kyoufu Shinbun -- For reasons unknown to him, Rei receives the Kyoufu Shinbun every morning, a newspaper which foresees deaths and catastrophes... -- -- Based on Tsunoda Jirou's classic horror manga "Kyoufu Shinbun", serialized in Weekly Shounen Champion. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- OVA - Jul 21, 1991 -- 528 N/A -- -- Eko Eko Azarak -- -- Toei Animation -- 1 ep -- - -- Fantasy Horror Magic -- Eko Eko Azarak Eko Eko Azarak -- The worried owner of a luxury hotel hires high school student Kuroi Misa who has experience with necromancy. The reason is that a series of suicides carried out by guests have taken place in the garden which was once a place of execution. She agrees to use her knowledge of the black arts but demands a fee of ten million yen. -- OVA - Jan 30, 2007 -- 522 N/A -- -- Chainsaw Bunny: Deleted Scene -- -- - -- 1 ep -- Original -- Horror Supernatural Thriller -- Chainsaw Bunny: Deleted Scene Chainsaw Bunny: Deleted Scene -- A "deleted scene" from Chainsaw Bunny, where the monster becomes a giant pink faceless looming creature. -- ONA - Aug 1, 2018 -- 509 4.75
Houkago no Pleiades (TV) -- -- Gainax -- 12 eps -- Original -- Magic Space -- Houkago no Pleiades (TV) Houkago no Pleiades (TV) -- The sky is the limit in Houkago no Pleiades. With telescope in hand, Subaru is set to go to the observation room of her school in order to get a view of that night's meteor shower. What she least expects is that behind the observatory door was not the starry skies, but a lavish garden, complete with a resplendent fountain and a mysterious young boy with long red hair. -- -- But the garden soon disappeared, as if Subaru was only imagining things. All that remains of that brilliant sight is an odd, bouncing blob creature that leads her to another magical door, occupied by other girls in magical witch-like costumes. Revelations start hitting Subaru one after the other: one of the girls in the room is her childhood friend Aoi, the little blob is actually an alien of a species called the Pleiadians trying to return home, and Subaru has been selected by him to become the newest member of their group! -- -- Now Subaru's dreams of the stars have come true in the wildest way, as she and her friends attempt to gather pieces of the Pleiadian spacecraft engine to return the being to his home. But they're not the only ones after the engine parts, and they have no idea why! -- 31,426 6.71
Houkago no Pleiades (TV) -- -- Gainax -- 12 eps -- Original -- Magic Space -- Houkago no Pleiades (TV) Houkago no Pleiades (TV) -- The sky is the limit in Houkago no Pleiades. With telescope in hand, Subaru is set to go to the observation room of her school in order to get a view of that night's meteor shower. What she least expects is that behind the observatory door was not the starry skies, but a lavish garden, complete with a resplendent fountain and a mysterious young boy with long red hair. -- -- But the garden soon disappeared, as if Subaru was only imagining things. All that remains of that brilliant sight is an odd, bouncing blob creature that leads her to another magical door, occupied by other girls in magical witch-like costumes. Revelations start hitting Subaru one after the other: one of the girls in the room is her childhood friend Aoi, the little blob is actually an alien of a species called the Pleiadians trying to return home, and Subaru has been selected by him to become the newest member of their group! -- -- Now Subaru's dreams of the stars have come true in the wildest way, as she and her friends attempt to gather pieces of the Pleiadian spacecraft engine to return the being to his home. But they're not the only ones after the engine parts, and they have no idea why! -- -- Licensor: -- Sentai Filmworks -- 31,426 6.71
Koi wa Ameagari no You ni -- -- Wit Studio -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Drama Romance Seinen -- Koi wa Ameagari no You ni Koi wa Ameagari no You ni -- Akira Tachibana, a reserved high school student and former track runner, has not been able to race the same as she used to since she experienced a severe foot injury. And although she is regarded as attractive by her classmates, she is not interested in the boys around school. -- -- While working part-time at the Garden Cafe, Akira begins to develop feelings for the manager—a 45-year-old man named Masami Kondou—despite the large age gap. Kondou shows genuine concern and kindness toward the customers of his restaurant, which, while viewed by others as soft or weak, draws Akira to him. Spending time together at the restaurant, they grow closer, which only strengthens her feelings. Weighed down by these uncertain emotions, Akira finally resolves to confess, but what will be the result? -- -- 207,337 7.53
Koi wa Ameagari no You ni -- -- Wit Studio -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Drama Romance Seinen -- Koi wa Ameagari no You ni Koi wa Ameagari no You ni -- Akira Tachibana, a reserved high school student and former track runner, has not been able to race the same as she used to since she experienced a severe foot injury. And although she is regarded as attractive by her classmates, she is not interested in the boys around school. -- -- While working part-time at the Garden Cafe, Akira begins to develop feelings for the manager—a 45-year-old man named Masami Kondou—despite the large age gap. Kondou shows genuine concern and kindness toward the customers of his restaurant, which, while viewed by others as soft or weak, draws Akira to him. Spending time together at the restaurant, they grow closer, which only strengthens her feelings. Weighed down by these uncertain emotions, Akira finally resolves to confess, but what will be the result? -- -- -- Licensor: -- Sentai Filmworks -- 207,337 7.53
Mary to Majo no Hana -- -- Studio Ponoc -- 1 ep -- Book -- Adventure Fantasy Magic -- Mary to Majo no Hana Mary to Majo no Hana -- Mary Smith is a clumsy girl with wild red hair who can't seem to do anything right. After moving in with her Great Aunt Charlotte, Mary finds herself lonely and bored, until one day she spies a cat which seems to keep changing color every time she sees it. Curiosity gets the better of her and she follows it into nearby woods. Deep in the forest, the cat takes her to a clearing with dead trees and brown grass, where the only sign of life is a cluster of mysterious blue flowers that Mary has never seen before. The gardener of the estate later tells her that the rare species is called "Fly-by-Night," and is said to be sought by witches for its incredible magical power. -- -- When the strange cat returns to her one night, Mary is led once again into the woods, but this time to an old broomstick hidden by a gnarled tree. After she clumsily squashes some Fly-by-Night against the broomstick, it begins to glow, whisking her off into the sky. Her wayward journey ends at the Endor College for Witches, where she is mistaken for a new student. And so, Mary must learn to look after herself in this marvelous new world of magic, where things are not always as they seem. -- -- -- Licensor: -- GKIDS -- Movie - Jul 8, 2017 -- 70,991 7.27
Nanatsu-iro� -- Drops -- -- Diomedéa -- 12 eps -- Visual novel -- Magic Romance School -- Nanatsu-iro� -- Drops Nanatsu-iro� -- Drops -- Tsuwabuki is a normal student, though not very social. One day he meets a new transfer student, named Sumomo Akihime, and another girl, both the only members of the gardening club. Tsuwabuki is forced by a teacher to join this club. But then he bumps into a strange guy with dog ears, switching his drink with they guy's by mistake. Drinking it, he is turned in a stuffed animal. The teacher tells him that the only way to turn back to normal is to find the chosen girl and let her catch the seven stardrops. This girl is Sumomo, that accepts to help him, though she's not allowed to know the animal's true identity. -- -- (Source: ANN) -- TV - Jul 3, 2007 -- 20,408 7.02
Servamp Movie: Alice in the Garden -- -- Platinum Vision -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Action Comedy Supernatural Drama Vampire Josei -- Servamp Movie: Alice in the Garden Servamp Movie: Alice in the Garden -- The Servamps and their pact-bound "Eves" are finally getting back to their normal lives as they recover from their injuries from the previous battles. However, when it starts snowing in the middle of summer, one of the Eves, Mahiru Shirota, suspects vampiric interference. Concerned by the strange phenomenon, he sets out to gather the group once more to try and solve the mystery; however, they suddenly lose contact with Misono Arisuin, the Eve of the Servamp of Lust. -- -- Servamp Movie: Alice in the Garden delves into the untold past of Misono and his brother Mikuni Arisuin, as well as the many mysteries of the grand Arisuin Mansion. -- -- Movie - Apr 7, 2018 -- 18,487 7.20
Vampire in the Garden -- -- Wit Studio -- ? eps -- Original -- Vampire -- Vampire in the Garden Vampire in the Garden -- Once, vampires and humans lived in harmony. Now, a young girl and a vampire queen will search for that Paradise once again. In the divided world of the future, two girls want to do the forbidden: the human wants to play the violin, and the vampire wants to see a wider world. -- -- (Source: Netflix, edited) -- ONA - ??? ??, 2021 -- 2,514 N/AKyuuketsuki Sugu Shinu -- -- Madhouse -- ? eps -- Manga -- Comedy Supernatural Vampire Shounen -- Kyuuketsuki Sugu Shinu Kyuuketsuki Sugu Shinu -- Vampires are said to have many weaknesses such as garlic, crosses, and sunlight. Game-loving vampire lord Draluc just so happens to be weak to... everything. He dies, turning into a pile of ash, at the slightest shock. -- -- After Vampire Hunter Ronaldo learned of a castle inhabited by a vampire rumoured to have kidnapped a kid, he went there intending to take the devil down. However, the vampire turned out to be Draluc, a wimp who keeps turning into ash at the smallest things. Moreover, the kid wasn't being held captive—he was just using the "haunted house" as his personal playground! -- -- When his castle is destroyed, Draluc moves into Ronaldo's office, much to the other's chagrin. Despite their differences, they must try to work together to defend themselves from rogue vampires, Ronaldo's murderous editor, investigators, and more—with Draluc dying continuously along the way. -- -- (Source: MU, amended) -- TV - Oct ??, 2021 -- 2,018 N/A -- -- Tezuka Osamu no Don Dracula -- -- - -- 8 eps -- Manga -- Comedy Horror Supernatural Vampire -- Tezuka Osamu no Don Dracula Tezuka Osamu no Don Dracula -- After living in Transylvania for several years, "Earl Dracula" (as Osamu Tezuka's official website calls him in English) has moved to Japan. In the Nerima Ward of Tokyo, he and his daughter, Chocola, and faithful servant Igor have taken up residence in an old-Western style house. -- -- While Chocola attends Junior High School, Earl Dracula is desperate to drink the blood of beautiful virgin women; an appropriate meal for a vampire of his stature. However, each night that Earl Dracula goes out on the prowl he finds himself getting involved in some kind of disturbance which leads to him causing various trouble for the local residents. With nobody in Japan believing in vampires, his very presence causes trouble amongst the people in town. -- TV - Apr 5, 1982 -- 1,934 6.08
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Agony in the Garden
An Afternoon in the Garden
A Night at the Garden
Aphrodite, the Garden of the Perfumes
Back to the Garden
Behind the Gardens
Born in the Gardens
Car, the Garden
Concert in the Garden
Death in the Garden
Delights of the Garden
Demons in the Garden
Dewdrops in the Garden
Everything in the Garden
Expulsion from the Garden of Eden
Expulsion from the Garden of Eden (Cole)
Fireflies in the Garden
Fuse Rocks the Garden
Gordon the Garden Gnome
In the Garden
In the Garden (1912 song)
In the Garden (EP)
In the Garden of Beasts
In the Garden of Iden
In the Garden of Souls
In the Garden of Venus
Jazz in the Garden at the Museum of Modern Art
List of Over the Garden Wall characters
List of The Garden of Sinners characters
Love Poems for Dying Children... Act II: The Garden of Crystalline Dreams
Lydia Crocheting in the Garden at Marly (Mary Cassatt)
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil
Nights in the Gardens of Spain
Nine Songs from the Garden of Welcome Lies
Nothe Gardens
Oliver in the Garden
Over the Garden Wall
Over the Garden Wall (disambiguation)
Pomelo the Garden Elephant
Rock the Garden
Round and Round the Garden
Serenus the Gardener
Servamp: Alice in the Garden
The Creatures in the Garden of Lady Walton
The Doll in the Garden: A Ghost Story
The Garden
The Garden (1977 film)
The Garden (1995 film)
The Garden (2017 film)
The Garden (Australia Too song)
The Garden (band)
The Garden (Bran Van 3000 album)
The Garden Company Limited
The Garden Conservancy
The Gardener
The Gardener's Labyrinth
The Gardener's Magazine
The Gardener (1912 film)
The Gardener (1974 film)
The Gardener (2012 film)
The Gardener of Argenteuil
The Gardeners' Chronicle
The Gardeners Dictionary
The Gardeners of America/Men's Garden Clubs of America
The Garden Festival
The Garden Gang
The Garden (journal)
The Garden Left Behind
The Garden (Merril Bainbridge album)
The Garden of Aunt Isabel
The Garden of Cyrus
The Garden of Delights
The Garden of Earthly Delights
The Garden of Eden (1998 film)
The Garden of Eden (novel)
The Garden of Eden (song)
The Garden of Eden with the Fall of Man
The Garden of Forking Paths
The Garden of God
The Garden of Jane Delawney
The Garden of Last Days
The Garden of Mirrors
The Garden of Proserpine
The Garden of Rama
The Garden of Sinners
The Garden of Sinners: A Study in Murder Part 1
The Garden of Sinners: A Study in Murder Part 2
The Garden of the Finzi-Continis
The Garden of Women
The Garden of Words
The Garden of Your Heart
The Garden Party (short story collection)
The Gardens at SIUE
The Gardens at the Las Vegas Springs Preserve
The Gardens, Auckland
The Gardens Between
The Gardens Greyhound and Sporting Complex
The Gardens Ice House
The Gardens, Johannesburg
The Gardens Mall
The Gardens of Light
The Gardens of Murcia (1936 film)
The Gardens of the American Rose Center
The Garden Spider
The Garden That Tilts
The Garden Tomb
The Garden Village, Kingston upon Hull
The Garden: Visions of Paradise
The Garden Was Full of Moon
The Love of Don Perlimpln and Belisa in the Garden
The Machine in the Garden
The Swing in the Garden
The Unicorn in the Garden
View of the Garden of the Villa Medici
When I Live by the Garden and the Sea
Woman in the Garden
Women in the Garden
Woodstock Back to the Garden: The Definitive 50th Anniversary Archive



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places -- Garden - Inf. Art Gallery - Inf. Building - Inf. Library - Labyrinth - Library - School - Temple - Tower - Tower of MEM
powers -- Aspiration - Beauty - Concentration - Effort - Faith - Force - Grace - inspiration - Presence - Purity - Sincerity - surrender
difficulties -- cowardice - depres. - distract. - distress - dryness - evil - fear - forget - habits - impulse - incapacity - irritation - lost - mistakes - obscur. - problem - resist - sadness - self-deception - shame - sin - suffering
practices -- Lucid Dreaming - meditation - project - programming - Prayer - read Savitri - study
subjects -- CS - Cybernetics - Game Dev - Integral Theory - Integral Yoga - Kabbalah - Language - Philosophy - Poetry - Zen
6.01 books -- KC - ABA - Null - Savitri - SA O TAOC - SICP - The Gospel of SRK - TIC - The Library of Babel - TLD - TSOY - TTYODAS - TSZ - WOTM II
8 unsorted / add here -- Always - Everyday - Verbs


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