I Am Glad I Will Not Be

The Practice Of Conservation Must Spring From A Conviction Of What Is Ethically And Aesthetically Right, As Well As What Is Economically Expedient. A Thing Is Right Only When It Tends To Preserve The Integrity, Stability, And Beauty Of The Community, And The Community Includes The Soil, Waters, Fauna, And Flora, As Well As People.

In Our Attempt To Make Conservation Easy, We Have Made It Trivial.

My Dog Does Not Care Where Heat Comes From, But He Cares That It Comes, And Soon. Indeed He Considers My Ability To Make It Come As Something Magical, For When I Rise In The Coal Black Pre-dawn And Kneel By The Hearth To Make A Fire, He Pushes Himself Blandly Between Me And The Kindling Splits I Have Laid In The Ashes, And I Must Touch A Match To Them By Poking It Between His Legs. Such Faith , I Suppose, Is The Kind That Moves Mountains.

Our Tools Are Better Than We Are, And Grow Better Faster Than We Do. They Suffice To Crack The Atom, To Command The Tides, But They Do Not Suffice For The Oldest Task In Human History, To Live On A Piece Of Land Without Spoiling It.

There Is, As Yet, No Sense Of Pride In The Husbandry Of Wild Plants And Animals, No Sense Of Shame In The Proprietorship Of A Sick Landscape. We Tilt Windmills In Behalf Of Conservation In Convention Halls And Editorial Offices, But On The Back Forty We Disclaim Even Owning A Lance.