"Our little kinsmen after rain In plenty may be seen, a pink and pulpy multitude The tepid ground upon; A needless life if seemed to me Until a little bird As to a hospitality Advanced and breakfasted."

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Who has the right to decide that the supreme value is a world without insects even though it would be a sterile world ungraced by the curving wing of a bird in flight. The decision is that of the authoritarian temporarily entrusted with power.

— Rachel Carson