It Is, By Common Consent, A Good

Acts Of Creation Are Ordinarily Reserved For Gods And Poets, But Humbler Folk May Circumvent This Restriction If They Know How. To Plant A Pine, For Example, One Need Be Neither God Nor Poet; One Need Only Own A Shovel. By Virtue Of This Curious Loophole In The Rules, Any Clodhopper May Say: Let There Be A Tree - And There Will Be One.

There Are Idle Spots On Every Farm, And Every Highway Is Bordered By An Idle Strip As Long As It Is; Keep Cow, Plow, And Mower Out Of These Idle Spots, And The Full Native Flora, Plus Dozens Of Interesting Stowaways From Foreign Parts, Could Be Part Of The Normal Environment Of Every Citizen.

Conservation Is Getting Nowhere Because It Is Incompatible With Our Abrahamic Concept Of Land. We Abuse Land Because We Regard It As A Commodity Belonging To Us. When We See Land As A Community To Which We Belong, We May Begin To Use It With Love And Respect. There Is No Other Way For Land To Survive The Impact Of Mechanized Man, Nor For Us To Reap From It The Aesthetic Harvest It Is Capable, Under Science, Of Contributing To Culture

To Those Who Know The Speech Of Hills And Rivers Straightening A Stream Is Like Shipping Vagrants—a Very Successful Method Of Passing Trouble From One Place To The Next. It Solves Nothing In Any Collective Sense.

Recreational Development Is A Job Not Of Building Roads Into Lovely Country, But Of Building Receptivity Into The Still Unlovely Human Mind.