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A society that feels itself too poor to afford the preservation of wilderness is not worthy of the name civilization.

Edward Abbey

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Edward Abbey
Age: 62 †
Born: 1927
Born: January 29
Died: 1989
Died: March 14
Author
Environmentalist
Essayist
Novelist
Philosopher
Screenwriter
Writer
Edward Paul Abbey
Nature
Wilderness
Feels
Afford
Worthy
Civilization
Name
Names
Poor
Society
Preservation

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Running the big rapids is like sex: half the fun lies in the anticipation. Two thirds of the thrill with the approach. The remainder is only ecstasy-or darkness.
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In the dog-eat-dog economy, the Doberman is boss.
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Be loyal to what you love, be true to the earth, fight your enemies with passion and laughter.
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This world may be only illusion -- but it's the only illusion we've got.
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The industrial corporation is the natural enemy of nature.
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If industrial man continues to multiply his numbers and expand his operations he will succeed in his apparent intention, to seal himself off from the natural and isolate himself within a synthetic prison of his own making.
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Baseball serves as a good model for democracy in action: Every player is equally important and each has a chance to be a hero.
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You can't belay a man who's falling in love.
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The gurus come from the sickliest nation on earth to tell us how to live. And we pay them for it.
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No man is wise enough to be another man's master. Each man's as good as the next -- if not a damn sight better.
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Why the critics, like a flock of ducks, always move in perfect unison: Their authority with the public depends upon an appearance of unanimous agreement. One dissenting voice would shatter the whole fragile structure.
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I would never betray a friend to serve a cause. Never reject a friend to help an institution. Great nations may fall in ruin before I would sell a friend to save them.
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Cold morning on Aztec Peak Fire Lookout. First, build fire in old stove. Second, start coffee. Then, heat up last night's pork chops and spinach for breakfast. Why not? And why the hell not?
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It may be true that there are no atheists in foxholes. But you don't find many Christians there, either. Or, about as many of one as the other.
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I thought of the wilderness we had left behind us, open to sea and sky, joyous in its plenitude and simplicity, perfect yet vulnerable, unaware of what is coming, defended by nothing, guarded by no one.
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Without courage, all other virtues are useless.
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Put the park rangers to work. Lazy scheming loafers, they've wasted too many years selling tickets at toll booths and sitting behind desks filling out charts and tables
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Instant communication is not communication at all but merely a frantic, trivial, nerve-wracking bombardment of cliches, threats, fads, fashions, gibberish and advertising.
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Life is too tragic for sadness: Let us rejoice.
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I once sat on the rim of a mesa above the Rio Grande for three days and nights, trying to have a vision. I got hungry and saw God in the form of a beef pie.
Edward Abbey