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There are two sides: the agents of waste and the lovers of the wild. Either for life or against it. And each of us has to choose. (Jay Griffiths, Wild: An Elemental Journey)
The Peace of Wild Things
A poem by Wendell Berry:
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.