Real Art Is Religion, A Search For

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.

Look At The Earth Crowded With Growth, New And Old Bursting From Their Strong Roots Hidden In The Silent, Live Ground, Each Seed According To Its Own Kind...each One Knowing What To Do, Each One Demanding Its Own Rights On The Earth. So Artist, You Too From The Depths Of Your Soul...let Your Roots Creep Forth, Gaining Strength.

There Is A Side Of Friendship That Develops Better And Stronger By Correspondence Than Contact.... The Absence Of The Flesh In Writing Perhaps Brings Souls Nearer.

Cedars Are Terribly Sensitive To Change Of Time And Light - Sometimes They Are Bluish Cold-green, Then They Turn Yellow Warm-green - Sometimes Their Boughs Flop Heavy And Sometimes Float, Then They Are Fairy As Ferns And Then They Droop, Heavy As Heartaches.

Do Not Try To Do Extraordinary Things But Do Ordinary Things With Intensity.