I Do Not Understand How Anyone Can

Lives Are Only One With Living. How Dare We, In Our Egos, Claim Catastrophe In The Rise And Fall Of The Individual Entity? There Is Only Life, And We Are Beads Strung On Its Strong And Endless Thread.

No Man Should Have Proprietary Rights Over Land Who Does Not Use That Land Wisely And Lovingly.

I Have Found That Each Of My Books Has Developed Out Of Something I Have Written In A Previous Book. Some Thought Evidently Unfinished.

Magic Birds Were Dancing In The Mystic Marsh. The Grass Swayed With Them, And The Shallow Waters, And The Earth Fluttered Under Them. The Earth Was Dancing With The Cranes, And The Low Sun, And The Wind And Sky.

Madness Is Only A Variety Of Mental Nonconformity And We Are All Individualists Here.