Real Beauty Is So Deep You Have

When I Sit At That Typewriter, I Have To Be Frightened Of What I'm Trying To Do. I'm Frightened By My Own Belief That I Can Actually Get A Story Down On Paper.

For So Many Centuries, The Exchange Of Gifts Has Held Us Together. It Has Made It Possible To Bridge The Abyss Where Language Struggles.

Throughout The Centuries We Have Projected On To The Wolf The Qualities We Most Despise And Fear In Ourselves.

The Land Retains An Identity Of Its Own, Still Deeper And More Subtle Than We Can Know. Our Obligation Toward It Then Becomes Simple: To Approach With An Uncalculating Mind, With An Attitude Of Regard...be Alert For Its Openings, For That Moment When Something Sacred Reveals Itself Within The Mundane, And You Know The Land Knows You Are There.

Would The Last Animal, Eating Garbage And Living On The Last Scrap Of Land, His Mate Dead, Would He Still Forgive You?