Words Were Medicine; They Were Magic And

Her Name Is Ago, And She Belonged To The Last Culture To Evolve In North America.

Loneliness Is An Aspect Of The Land.

Once In His Life, A Man Ought To Concentrate His Mind Upon The Remembered Earth, I Believe. He Ought To Give Himself Up To A Particular Landscape In His Experience, To Look At It From As Many Angles As He Can, To Wonder About It, To Dwell Upon It. He Ought To Imagine That He Touches It With His Hands At Every Season And Listens To The Sounds That Are Made Upon It. He Ought To Imagine The Creatures There And All The Faintest Motions Of The Wind. He Ought To Recollect The Glare Of Noon And All The Colors Of The Dawn And Dusk.

The Kiowas Reckoned Their Stature By The Distance They Could See.

I Have A Pretty Good Knowledge Of The Indian World By Virtue Of Living On Several Different Reservations And Being Exposed To Several Different Cultures And Languages.