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.

The earth is soaked and soggy with rain. Everything is drinking its fill and the surplus gluts the drains. The sky is full of it and lies low over the earth, heavy and dense. Even the sea is wetter than usual!

I made myself into an envelope into which I could thrust my work deep, lick the flap, seal it from everybody.

You always feel when you look it straight in the eye that you could have put more into it, could have let yourself go and dug harder.

Let me not fuss and fret at my incompetence but be still and know that Thou art God.

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

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.