Loneliness Is An Aspect Of The Land.

It Is Here That I Can Concentrate My Mind Upon The Remembered Earth. It Is Here That I Am Most Conscious Of Being, Here That Wonder Comes Upon My Blood, Here I Want To Live Forever; And It Is No Matter That I Must Die.

In The Beginning Was The Word, And It Was Spoken.

There Was Only The Dark Infinity In Which Nothing Was. And Something Happened. At The Distance Of A Star Something Happened, And Everything Began. The Word Did Not Come Into Being, But It Was. It Did Not Break Upon The Silence, But It Was Older Than The Silence And The Silence Was Made Of It.

My Father Was A Painter And He Taught Art. He Once Said To Me, 'i Never Knew An Indian Child Who Could Not Draw.'

The Character Of The Landscape Changes From Hour To Hour, Day To Day, Season To Season. Nothing Of The Earth Can Be Taken For Granted; You Feel That Creation Is Going On In Your Sight. You See Things In The High Air That You Do Not See Farther Down In The Lowlands. In The High Country All Objects Bear Upon You, And You Touch Hard Upon The Earth. From My Home I Can See The Huge, Billowing Clouds; They Draw Close Upon Me And Merge With My Life.