We are now heading down a centuries-long path toward increasing the productivity of our natural capital - the resource systems upon which we depend to live - instead of our human capital.
Paul HawkenRead
Biological diversity is messy. It walks, it crawls, it swims, it swoops, it buzzes. But extinction is silent, and it has no voice other than our own.
Interpretation
Biological diversity is chaotic and vibrant, while extinction is quiet and unnoticeable.
This quote by Paul Hawken highlights the contrast between the lively, dynamic nature of biological diversity and the often overlooked seriousness of extinction. It emphasizes that while diverse life forms are active and visible, the loss of these species happens quietly and without fanfare, underscoring our responsibility to recognize this threat and give a voice to the voiceless.
In practice
In an environmental seminar, this quote can be used to emphasize the importance of preserving biodiversity.
We are now heading down a centuries-long path toward increasing the productivity of our natural capital - the resource systems upon which we depend to live - instead of our human capital.
Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may befall us; it resides in humanity's willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider.
We can no longer prosper by increasing human productivity. The more we try to do, the more poverty we will create.
At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product.
How much harm does a company have to do before we question its right to exist?
We have the capacity to create a remarkably different economy: one that can restore ecosystems and protect the environment while bringing forth innovation, prosperity, meaningful work, and true security.
If nature were a bank, they would have already rescued it.
Most species do their own evolving, making it up as they go along, which is the way Nature intended. And this is all very natural and organic and in tune with mysterious cycles of the cosmos, which believes that there's nothing like millions of years of really frustrating trial and error to give a species moral fiber and, in some cases, backbone.
Naturalists, like poets, are born and then made only by years of painstaking observation.
Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life, every fiber thrilling like harp strings.
I hear the mad song of a little bird and crush butterflies between my fingers.
I sleep with my feet on moss carpets, my branches in the cotton of the clouds.
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