Change is a measure of time and, in the autumn, time seems speeded up. What was is not and never again will be; what is is change. — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
“It is those who have compassion for all life who will best safeguard the life of man. Those who become aroused only when man is endangered become aroused too late. We cannot make the world uninhabitable for other forms of life and have it habitable for ourselves. It is the conservationist who is concerned with the welfare of all the… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share
The seasons, like greater tides, ebb and flow across the continents. Spring advances up the United States at the average rate of about fifteen miles a day. It ascends mountainsides at the rate of about a hundred feet a day. It sweeps ahead like a flood of water, racing down the long valleys, creeping up hillsides in a rising tide.… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share
It is morally as bad not to care whether anything is true or not... — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
Any fine morning, a power saw can fell a tree that took a thousand years to grow. — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
To the lost man, to the pioneer penetrating a new country, to the naturalist who wishes to see the wild land at its wildest,… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
Freedom from worries and surcease from strain are illusions that always inhabit the distance. — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
“Time is the river. We are the islands. Time washes around us and flows away and with it flow fragments of our lives. So,… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad. — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
Those who wish to pet and baby wild animals 'love' them. But those who respect their natures and wish to let them live normal… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share Image
If I were to choose the sights, the sounds, the fragrances I most would want to see and hear and smell--among all the delights of the open world--on a final day on earth, I think I would choose these: the clear, ethereal song of a white-throated sparrow singing at dawn; the smell of pine trees in the heat of the… — Edwin Way Teale Copy Share
