Nature is not a place to visit. It is home.
Wildness is not just the "preservation of the world," it is the world
With no surroundings there can be no path, and with no path one cannot become free.
All those years and their momentsโ Crackling bacon, slamming car doors, Poems tried out on friends, Will be one more archive, One more shaky text.
Why should the peculiarities of human consciousness be the narrow standard by which other creatures are judged?
Burning the small dead branches broke from beneath thick spreading whitebark pine. A hundred summers snowmelt rock and air hiss in a twisted bough.