I Made Myself Into An Envelope Into

Perfectly Ordered Disorder Designed With A Helter-skelter Magnificence.

Trying To Find Equivalents For Things In Words Helps Me Find Equivalents In Painting.

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.

The Foolish Square Calves Pretend To Be Frightened Of Our Train. Bluffers! Haven't They Seen It Every Day Since They Were Born? It's Just An Excuse To Shake The Joy Out Of Their Heels.

Sometimes I Could Quit Paint And Take To Charring. It Must Be Fine To Clean Perfectly, To Shine And Polish And Know That It Could Not Be Done Better. In Painting That Never Occurs.