The control of nature is a phrase conceived in arrogance.

To stand at the edge of the sea, to sense the ebb and flow of the tides, to feel the breath of a mist moving over a great salt marsh, to watch the flight of shore birds that have swept up and down the surf lines of the continents for untold thousands of years, to see the running of the old eels and the young shad to the sea, is to have knowledge of things that are as nearly eternal as any earthly life can be.

In every outthrust headland, in every curving beach, in every grain of sand there is the story of the earth.

Autumn comes to the sea with a fresh blaze of phosphorescence, when every wave crest is aflame. Here and there the whole surface may glow with sheets of cold fire, while below schools of fish pour through the water like molten metal.

The more clearly we can focus our attention on the wonders and realities of the universe about us, the less taste we shall have for destruction.

If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.

It is ironic to think that man might determine his own future by something so seemingly trivial as the choice of an insect spray.