The Wind That Makes Music In November

The Whole Conflict Thus Boils Down To A Question Of Degree. We Of The Minority See A Law Of Diminishing Returns In Progress; Our Opponents Do Not.

Only Economists Mistake Physical Opulence For Riches.

. . . Perhaps Our Grandsons, Having Never Seen A Wild River, Will Never Miss The Chance To Set A Canoe In Singing Waters . . . Glad I Shall Never Be Young Without Wild Country To Be Young In.

The Sweetest Hunts Are Stolen. To Steal A Hunt, Either Go Far Into The Wilderness Where No One Has Been, Or Else Find Some Undiscovered Place Under Everybody's Nose

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.