Indians do not hinder the progress of their dead by embalming or tight coffining. When the spirit has gone they give the body back to the earth. the earth welcomes the body-coaxes new life and beauty from it, hurries over what men shudder at. Lovely tender herbage bursts from the graves, swiftly, exulting over corruption.

Be careful that you do not write or paint anything that is not your own, that you don't know in your own soul.

I think that one's art is a growth inside one. I do not think one can explain growth. It is silent and subtle. One does not keep digging up a plant to see how it grows.

There is no right and wrong way to paint except honestly or dishonestly. Honestly is trying for the bigger thing. Dishonestly is bluffing and getting through a smattering of surface representation with no meaning.

You come into the world alone and you go out of the world alone yet it seems to me you are more alone while living than even going and coming.

It is wonderful to feel the grandness of Canada in the raw.

Up came the sun, and drank the dew.