The Western Guinean lowland forests are a tropical moist broadleaf forest ecoregion of West Africa. The ecoregion includes the lowland forests extending from the Atlantic Ocean a few hundred kilometers inland, and from western Côte d'Ivoire across Liberia, southeastern Guinea, most of Sierra Leone, and into southwest Guinea. The Sassandra River of Côte d'Ivoire separates the Western Guinean forests from the Eastern Guinean forests which lie to the east. Inland and to the west, the Western Guinean forests transition to the Guinean forest-savanna mosaic, and to the Guinean montane forests at higher elevations.
The Western Guinean forests, together with the other tropical moist forests of West Africa, is included within Conservation International's Guinean Forests of West Africa biodiversity hotspot.
Famous quotes containing the words western, lowland and/or forests:
“It is the place where all the aspirations of the Western World meet to form one vast master aspiration, as powerful as the suction of a steam dredge. It is the icing on the pie called Christian civilization.”
—H.L. (Henry Lewis)
“The hill farmer ... always seems to make out somehow with his corn patch, his few vegetables, his rifle, and fishing rod. This self-contained economy creates in the hillman a comparative disinterest in the world’s affairs, along with a disdain of lowland ways. “I don’t go to question the good Lord in his wisdom,” runs the phrasing attributed to a typical mountaineer, “but I jest cain’t see why He put valleys in between the hills.””
—Administration in the State of Arka, U.S. public relief program (1935-1943)
“The civilized nations—Greece, Rome, England—have been sustained by the primitive forests which anciently rotted where they stand. They survive as long as the soil is not exhausted. Alas for human culture! little is to be expected of a nation, when the vegetable mould is exhausted, and it is compelled to make manure of the bones of its fathers. There the poet sustains himself merely by his own superfluous fat, and the philosopher comes down on his marrow-bones.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)