My father was a painter and he taught art. He once said to me, 'I never knew an Indian child who could not draw.'

Her name is Ago, and she belonged to the last culture to evolve in North America.

Once in his life a man ought to concentrate his mind upon the remembered earth. 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 upon it, and dwell upon it.

Indians are marvelous storytellers. In some ways, that oral tradition is stronger than the written tradition.

My line of vision was such that the creature filled the moon like a fossil. It had gone there, I thought, to live and die, for there, of all places, was its small definition made whole and eternal

I am interested in the way that we look at a given landscape and take possession of it in our blood and brain. None of us lives apart from the land entirely; such an isolation is unimaginable. If we are to realize and maintain our humanity, we must come to a moral comprehension of earth and air as it is perceived in the long turn of seasons and of years.

He used both hands when he made the bear. Imagine a bear proceeding from the hands of God.