The Impulse To Mar And To Destroy

True Tragedy May Be Defined As A Dramatic Work In Which The Outward Failure Of The Principal Personage Is Compensated For By The Dignity And Greatness Of His Character.

Every Time A Value Is Born, Existence Takes On A New Meaning; Every Time One Dies, Some Part Of That Meaning Passes Away.

There Are Some Optimists Who Search Eagerly For The Skunk Cabbage Which In February Sometimes Pushes Itself Up Through The Ice, And Who Call It A Sign Of Spring. I Wish That I Could Feel That Way About It, But I Do Not. The Truth Of The Matter, To Me, Is Simply That Skunk Cabbage Blooms In The Winter Time.

We Need Some Contact With The Things We Sprang From. We Need Nature At Least As A Part Of The Context Of Our Lives. Without Cities We Cannot Be Civilized. Without Nature, Without Wilderness Even, We Are Compelled To Renounce An Important Part Of Our Heritage.

The Most Serious Charge Which Can Be Brought Against New England Is Not Puritanism But February.