Why go to a museum and look at paintings if you can paint your own painting. I mean, do things for yourself. I mean, do you have somebody come in a sleep with your wife for you? Do you pay somebody to eat your food for you? I mean, do things for yourself. That's what life's about. There's so many people doing things they hate, I mean you have people running the country who all they care about is keeping their jobs - not doing their jobs. There's so little real love in any of the work that I see.
Two amateur artists were asked to paint something depicting "peace." On the appointed day, both artists brought their paintings to be shown. One picture was of a quiet, rippleless lake. Here indeed was peace as seen by an artist. The other painting showed a gnarled tree standing on the precipice in a rugged canyon. Nearby was a thundering waterfall, and the river dashed on, angrily below. In the tree, near her nest, a bird was perched, singing above the clamor of the torrent of the water below. A sudden change in the wind could bring disaster to the frail limb upon which the bird and her nest were located. But instinctively she knew that if that happened, she and her young ones could use their wings and mount to the sky. Yes, the two artists had fulfilled what they had been asked to do. One painted a scene depicting the quiet beauty of peace. The other had seen the majestic splendor that accompanies inner peace.
The many great gardens of the world, of literature and poetry, of painting and music, of religion and architecture, all make the point as clear as possible: The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden. If you don't want paradise, you are not human; and if you are not human, you don't have a soul.
Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852)
Source: The Re–Enchantment of Everyday Life, 1996, p. 101