“I send my friends e-mail messages about the progress of my garden, especially of my roses. It left them with the impression, I think, that I was concerned with nothing else. I felt no urgency in correcting that notion. People obsessed with their gardens have probably caused the least suffering in the world of any category of men.”

“A single rose can be my garden; a single friend, my world.”

“The wind, one brilliant day, calledto 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 flowersin my garden are dead.""Well then, I'll take the withered petalsand 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?”

“There is nothing I would not do for those who are really my friends. I have no notion of loving people by halves, it is not my nature.”

“I am poor, but I am rich. I have my children, I have a garden with roses, and I have my faith and the memories of those who have gone before me. What more is there?”

“I haven't much time to be fond of anything ... but when I have a moment's fondness to bestow, most times ... the roses get it. I began my life among them in my father's nursery garden, and I shall end my life among them, if I can. Yes. One of these days (please God) I shall retire from catching thieves, and try my hand at growing roses.”