Ants In The House Seem

A Man'll Seem Like A Person To A Woman, Year In, Year Out. She'll Put Up And She'll Put Up. Then One Day He'll Do Something Maybe No Worse Than What He's Been A-doing All His Life. She'll Look At Him. And Without No Warning He'll Look Like A Varmint.

It Seems To Me That The Earth May Be Borrowed But Not Bought. It May Be Used But Not Owned. We Are Tenants, Not Possessors, Lovers And Not Masters.

We Cannot Live Without The Earth Or Apart From It, And Something Is Shrivelled In A Man's Heart When He Turns Away From It And Concerns Himself Only With The Affairs Of Men

But To Make The Intangible Tangible, To Pick The Emotion Out Of The Air And Make It True For Others, Is Both The Blessing And The Curse Of The Writer, For The Thing Between Book Covers Is Never As Beautiful As The Thing He Imagined.

Cross Creek Belongs To The Wind And The Rain, To The Sun And The Seasons, To The Cosmic Secrecy Of Seed, And Beyond All, To Time.