Loneliness Is An Aspect Of

It Is Here That I Can Concentrate My Mind Upon The Remembered Earth. It Is Here That I Am Most Conscious Of Being, Here That Wonder Comes Upon My Blood, Here I Want To Live Forever; And It Is No Matter That I Must Die.

Loneliness Is An Aspect Of The Land.

To Look Upon That Landscape In The Early Morning, With The Sun At Your Back, Is To Lose The Sense Of Proportion.

I Sometimes Think The Contemporary White American Is More Culturally Deprived Than The Indian.

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.