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Stockholm tiger
 

...the single most effective environmental message of the century was totally inadvertent: the 1969 view from the moon of a fragile, finite “Spaceship Earth”.

(John Hannigan)

 

 

 

It has to be loved the way a laundress loves her linens,
the way she moves her hands caressing the fine muslins
knowing their warp and woof,
like a lover coaxing, or a mother praising....
O this great beloved world and all the creatures in it.
It has to be spread out, the skin of this planet.

(PK Page)

 

We can’t put it together.
It is together.

(The Whole Earth Catalog)

There was that unbelievably gross photograph of the earth taken across the surface of the moon, which is now in all the soap ads ... My god, the stunning alienation of that piece of sentimental whimsy...

(attr. JH Prynne)

In a context of rapidly increasing connections around the globe, what is crucial for ecological awareness ... is not so much a sense of place as a sense of planet...

(Ursula Heise)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gaia is no doting mother, no fainting damsel. She is a tough virgin, 3.5 billion years old. If a species screws up, she eliminates it with all the feeling of a microbrain in an ICBM.

(James Lovelock)

 

 

 

 

 

...it is not language that has a hole in its ozone layer...

(Kate Soper)

In the aftermath of that epic moon trip, the advertising agencies located in a geographically small, but socially dominant, patch of Mother Earth promoted ecological consciousness as a commodity to end, and sell, all. The appeal to buy ‘natural’ products precisely played on the theme of the earth as a helpless, beloved woman - a victim to be rescued from degradation by acts of communitarian altruism.

(Ann Oakley)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to thee,
Whether the summer clothe the general earth
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare branch
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh thatch
Smokes in the sun-thaw ; whether the eave-
drops fall
Heard only in the trances of the blast,
Or if the secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.

(Samuel Taylor Coleridge)

Even this doom, of the god remaining absent, is a way in which the world worlds.

(Martin Heidegger)

Exmoor wood
Hong Kong aircon