The Memory Of Cumshewa Is Of A

The Men Resent A Woman Getting Any Honour In What They Consider Is Essentially Their Field. Men Painters Mostly Despise Women Painters. So I Have Decided To Stop Squirming, To Throw Any Honour In With Canada And Women.

So Still Were The Big Woods Where I Sat, Sound Might Not Yet Have Been Born.

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.

I Wonder Why We Are Always Sort Of Ashamed Of Our Best Parts And Try To Hide Them. We Don't Mind Ridicule Of Our 'sillinesses' But Of Our 'sobers'.

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