The Truth Is I've Got

Preserve, Within A Wild Sanctuary, An Inaccessible Valley Of Reverie.

A Successful Politician Does Not Have Convictions; He Has Emotions.

America Has Enjoyed The Doubtful Blessing Of A Single-track Mind.

. . . Every Tree Near Our House Had A Name Of Its Own And A Special Identity. This Was The Beginning Of My Love For Natural Things, For Earth And Sky, For Roads And Fields And Woods, For Trees And Grass And Flowers; A Love Which Has Been Second Only To My Sense Of Enduring Kinship With Birds And Animals, And All Inarticulate Creatures.

And Where Was Happiness If It Sprung Not From The Soil? Where Contentment If It Dwelt Not Near To Nature?