In Western Civilization, Our Elders Are Books.

Forests In The Tropics Are Cut To Make Pasture To Raise Beef For The American Market. Our Distance From The Source Of Our Food Enables Us To Be Superficially More Comfortable, And Distinctly More Ignorant.

We . . . Must Try To Live Without Causing Unnecessary Harm, Not Just To Fellow Humans But To All Beings. We Must Try Not To Be Stingy, Or To Exploit Others. There Will Be Enough Pain In The World As It Is.

Walking Is The Exact Balance Between Spirit And Humility.

Clambering Up The Cold Mountain Path, The Cold Mountain Trail Goes On And On: The Long Gorge Choked With Scree And Boulders, The Wide Creek, The Mist-blurred Grass. The Moss Is Slippery, Though There's Been No Rain The Pine Sings, But There's No Wind. Who Can Leap The World's Ties And Sit With Me Among The White Clouds?

I Try To Hold Both History And Wilderness In Mind, That My Poems May The True Measure Of Things And Stand Against The Unbalance And Ignorance Of Our Times.