Oh, The Glory Of Growth, Silent, Mighty,

There Is A Need To Go Deeper, To Let Myself Go Completely, To Enter Into The Surroundings In The Real Fellowship Of Oneness, To Lift Above The Outer Shell, Out Into The Depth And Wideness Where God Is The Recognized Centre And Everything Is In Time With Everything, And The Key-note Is God.

Indian Art Broadened My Seeing, Loosened The Formal Tightness I Had Learned In England's Schools. Its Bigness And Stark Reality Baffled My White Man's Understanding... I Had Been Schooled To See Outsides Only, Not Struggle To Pierce.

Inspiration Is Intention Obeyed.

Indians Do Not Hinder The Progress Of Their Dead By Embalming Or Tight Coffining. When The Spirit Has Gone They Give The Body Back To The Earth. The Earth Welcomes The Body-coaxes New Life And Beauty From It, Hurries Over What Men Shudder At. Lovely Tender Herbage Bursts From The Graves, Swiftly, Exulting Over Corruption.

I Have Been Sent More Ridiculous Press Notices. People Are Frequently Comparing My Work With Van Gogh... I Do Hope I Do Not Get Bloated And Self-satisfied. When Proud Feelings Come I Step Up Over Them To The Realm Of Work, To The Thing I Want, The Liveness Of The Thing Itself.