What is commonly called conservation will not work in the long run because it is not really conservation at all but rather, disguised by its elaborate scheming, only a more knowledgeable variation of the old idea of a world for man's use only. That idea is unrealizable. If nature herself has exhibited a tendency, if she seems to 'want' anything,it is not merely to survive. Evolution itself has spread before us the story of a striving toward 'the higher,' not merely toward that which enables an organism to survive. They are older than man, and they have their source in the natural part of him.
Art becomes sterile and the joy of life withers when they become unnatural.
She is often noneo fht egood things which the city is, but she is almost always, nevertheless, somehow beautiful and somehow joyous. Joy is the one thing of which indisputably the healthy animal, and even the healthy plant, gives an example. The geranium on the tenement window and the orchid in the florist's shp, the poodle on the leash and the goldfish in the bowl, are better than nothing. In the consciousness of the city-dweller, they ought to play a part no less essential than that of the sleed chrome chair and the reproductions of Braque and Miro. I have experienced it sometimes when a rabbit appeared suddenly from a bush to dash away to the safety which he values so much, or when, at night, a rustle in the leaves reminds me how many busy lives surround my own.