Our fantastic civilization has fallen out of touch with many aspects of nature, and with none more completely than with night.

It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.

Touch the earth, love the earth, honour the earth, her plains, her valleys, her hills, and her seas; rest your spirit in her solitary places.

As well expect Nature to answer your human values as to come into your house and sit in a chair.

We patronize the animals for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they are more finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other Nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time.

The quality of life, which in the ardour of spring was personal and sexual, becomes social in midsummer.

Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it.