O, God Assist Our Side: At Least,

I Shall Now Confess To You That None Of Those Three Trout Had To Be Beheaded, Or Folded Double, To Fit Their Casket. What Was Big Was Not The Trout, But The Chance. What Was Full Was Not My Creel, But My Memory.

Wilderness Is A Continuous Stretch Of Country Preserved In Its Natural State, Open To Lawful Hunting And Fishing, Big Enough To Absorb A Two Weeks' Pack Trip, And Kept Devoid Of Roads, Artificial Trails, Cottages, Or Other Works Of Man.

Ideas, Like Men, Can Become Dictators. We Americans Have So Far Escaped Regimentation By Our Rulers, But Have We Escaped Regimentation By Our Own Ideas? I Doubt If There Exists Today A More Complete Regimentation Of The Human Mind Than That Accomplished By Our Self-imposed Doctrine Of Ruthless Utilitarianism.

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.

It Is In Midwinter That I Sometimes Glean From My Pines... A Curious Transfusion Of Courage.