The form of a poem is invisible. A poem is not an "object." This is hard to accept in a mechanical age.

The form of a poem is invisible. A poem is not an "object." This is hard to accept in a mechanical age.

I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

A viable neighborhood is a community: and a viable community is made up of neighbors who cherish and protect what they have in common.

Men may dam it and say that they have made a lake, but it will still be a river. It will keep its nature and bide its time, like a caged animal alert for the slightest opening. In time, it will have its way; the dam, like the ancient cliffs, will be carried away piecemeal in the currents.

In living in the world by his own will and skill, the stupidest peasant or tribesman is more competent than the most intelligent worker or technician or intellectual in a society of specialists.

The soil under the grass is dreaming of a young forest, and under the pavement the soil is dreaming of grass.