Love. The Black Hook. The Spear Singing

Things Which Do Not Grow And Change Are Dead Things.

There Is No Such Thing As A Complete Lack Of Order, Only A Design So Vast It Appears Unrepetitive Up Close.

Be Lovely And Do No Harm.

Cold Sinks In, There To Stay. And People, They'll Leave You, Sure. There's No Return To What Was And No Way Back. There's Just Emptiness All Around, And You In It, Like Singing Up From The Bottom Of A Well, Like Nothing Else, Until You Harm Yourself, Until You Are A Mad Dog Biting Yourself For Sympathy. Because There Is No Relenting.

To Be Of Mixed Blood Is A Great Gift For A Writer. I Have One Foot On Tribal Lands And One Foot In Middle-class Life.