There is life without love. It is not worth a bent penny, or a scuffed shoe...When you hear, a mile away and still out of sight, the churn of the water as it begins to swirl and roil, fretting around the sharp rocks—when you hear that unmistakable pounding—when you feel the mist on your mouth and sense ahead the embattlement, the long fall plunging and steaming—then row, row for your life toward it.
This we know:
The earth does not belong to us
We belong to the earth.
All things are connected
Like the blood which unites one family
We do not weave the web of life
We are merely a strand in it.
And whatever we do to the web
We do to ourselves!