My Line Of Vision Was Such That

Coyotes Have The Gift Of Seldom Being Seen; They Keep To The Edge Of Vision And Beyond, Loping In And Out Of Cover On The Plains And Highlands. And At Night, When The Whole World Belongs To Them, They Parley At The River With The Dogs, Their Higher, Sharper Voices Full Of Authority And Rebuke. They Are An Old Council Of Clowns, And They Are Listened To.

We Are What We Imagine. Our Very Existence Consists In Our Imagination Of Ourselves. Our Best Destiny Is To Imagine, At Least, Completely, Who And What, And That We Are. The Greatest Tragedy That Can Befall Us Is To Go Unimagined.

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

Once In His Life A Man Ought To Concentrate His Mind Upon The Remembered Earth. He Ought To Give Himself Up To A Particular Landscape In His Experience; To Look At It From As Many Angles As He Can, To Wonder Upon It, And Dwell Upon It.

Although My Grandmother Lived Out Her Long Life In The Shadow Of Rainy Mountian, The Immense Landscape Of The Continental Interior Lay Like Memory In Her Blood