There Are Some Who Can Live Without

On Motionless Wing They Emerge From The Lifting Mists, Sweep A Final Arc Of Sky, And Settle In Clangorous Descending Spirals To Their Feeding Grounds. A New Day Has Begun On The Crane Marsh.

The Life Of Every River Sings Its Own Song, But In Most The Song Is Long Marred By The Discords Of Misuse.

Wilderness Is The Raw Material Out Of Which Man Has Hammered The Artifact Called Civilization.

All Conservation Of Wildness Is Self-defeating, For To Cherish We Must See And Fondle, And When Enough Have Seen And Fondled, There Is No Wilderness Left To Cherish.

The Only True Development In American Recreational Resources Is The Development Of The Perceptive Faculty In Americans. All Of The Other Acts We Grace By That Name Are, At Best, Attempts To Retard Or Mask The Process Of Dilution.