When some portion of the biosphere is rather unpopular with the human race-a crocodile, a dandelion, a stony valley, a snowstorm, an odd-shaped flint-there are three sorts of human being who are particularly likely still to see point in it and befriend it. They are poets, scientists and children. Inside each of us, I suggest, representatives of all these groups can be found.
Interpretation
The quote emphasizes that poets, scientists, and children find value in nature even when it is not popular.
Mary Midgley's quote highlights the intrinsic appreciation for the natural world that exists within poets, scientists, and children. While certain aspects of nature may be overlooked or deemed unappealing by society, these groups possess the ability to recognize beauty and significance in all elements of the biosphere. Midgley suggests that these traits are not just exclusive to these groups but are present in everyone, urging a deeper connection and understanding of nature.
In practice
During a nature documentary screening, to emphasize the importance of every creature.
Evolution is the creation-myth of our age. By telling us our origin it shapes our views of what we are. It influences not just our thought, but our feelings and actions too, in a way which goes far beyond its official function as a biological theory.
Hubris calls for nemesis, and in one form or another it's going to get it, not as a punishment from outside but as the completion of a pattern already started.
That queen of secrecy, the violet.
He who knows the activities of Nature lives according to Nature.
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,_x000D_ _x000D_ The earth, and every common sight,_x000D_ _x000D_ To me did seem_x000D_ _x000D_ Apparelled in celestial light,_x000D_ _x000D_ The glory and the freshness of a dream.
The breezes taste Of apple peel. The air is full Of smells to feel- Ripe fruit, old footballs, Burning brush, New books, erasers, Chalk, and such. The bee, his hive, Well-honeyed hum, And Mother cuts Chrysanthemums. Like plates washed clean With suds, the days Are polished with A morning haze.
Nature never appeals to intelligence until habit and instinct are useless. There is no intelligence where there is no need of change.
Spring drew on... and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that hope traversed them at night and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.
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