Too Much Safety Seems To

The Last Word In Ignorance Is The Man Who Says Of An Animal Or Plant: 'what Good Is It?

One Of The Penalties Of An Ecological Education Is That One Lives Alone In A World Of Wounds. Much Of The Damage Inflicted On Land Is Quite Invisible To Laymen. An Ecologist Must Either Harden His Shell And Make Believe That The Consequences Of Science Are None Of His Business, Or He Must Be The Doctor Who Sees The Marks Of Death In A Community That Believes Itself Well And Does Not Want To Be Told Otherwise.

This Song Of The Waters Is Audible To Every Ear, But There Is Other Music In These Hills, By No Means Audible To All. On A Still Night, When The Campfire Is Low And The Pleiades Have Climbed Over Rimrocks, Sit Quietly And Listen, And Think Hard Of Everything You Have Seen And Tried To Understand. Then You May Hear It - A Vast Pulsing Harmony - Its Score Inscribed On A Thousand Hills, Its Notes The Lives And Deaths Of Plants And Animals, Its Rhythms Spanning The Seconds And The Centuries.

The Real Jewel Of My Disease-ridden Woodlot Is The Prothonotary Warbler. ... The Flash Of His Gold-and-blue Plumage Amid The Dank Decay Of The June Woods Is In Itself Proof That Dead Trees Are Transmuted Into Living Animals, And Vice Versa.

In Country, As In People, A Plain Exterior Often Conceals Hidden Riches, To Perceive Which Requires Much Living In And With.