If One Must Fight Or Create, It

After His Death The Gardener Does Not Become A Butterfly, Intoxicated By The Perfumes Of The Flowers, But A Garden Worm Tasting All The Dark, Nitrogenous, And Spicy Delights Of The Soil.

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!"

Nothing Is Stranger To Man Than His Own Image.

We´re Two, Two For Everything, For Love, Life, For A Fight And Pain, For Hours Of Happiness. Two For Wins And Losses, For Life And For Death - Two!

Man Will Never Be Enslaved By Machinery If The Man Tending The Machine Be Paid Enough.