Edwin Way Teale
Edwin Way Teale
Edwin Way Tealewas an American naturalist, photographer and Pulitzer Prize-winning writer. Teale's works serve as primary source material documenting environmental conditions across North America from 1930 - 1980. He is perhaps best known for his series The American Seasons, four books documenting over 75,000 milesof automobile travel across North America following the changing seasons...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionWriter
Date of Birth2 June 1899
CountryUnited States of America
Noise is evolving not only the endurers of noise but the needers of noise.
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.
Any fine morning, a power saw can fell a tree that took a thousand years to grow.
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. Most of us, like the man who lives on the bank of a river and watches the stream flow by, see only one phase of the movement of spring. Each year the season advances toward us out of the south, sweeps around us, goes flooding away to the north.
To the lost man, to the pioneer penetrating a new country, to the naturalist who wishes to see the wild land at its wildest, the advice is always the same - follow a river. The river is the original forest highway. It is nature's own Wilderness Road.
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 noon; the lonely calling of Canada geese; the sight of a dragon-fly glinting in the sunshine; the voice of a hermit thrush far in a darkening woods at evening; and--most spiritual and moving of sights--the white cathedral of a cumulus cloud floating serenely in the blue of the sky.
For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad.
It is morally as bad not to care whether anything is true or not...
The world's favorite season is the spring. All things seem possible in May.
To those whom the tree, the birds, the wildflowers represent only "locked-up dollars" have never known or really seen these things.
Time and space - time to be alone, space to move about - these may well become the great scarcities of tomorrow.
For the mind disturbed, the still beauty of dawn is nature's finest balm.
All things seem possible in May.
Reduce the complexity of life by eliminating the needless wants of life, and the labors of life reduce themselves.