Although my grandmother lived out her long life in the shadow of Rainy Mountian, the immense landscape of the continental interior lay like memory in her blood

Words were medicine; they were magic and invisible. They came from nothing into sound and meaning. They were beyond price; they could neither be bought nor sold.

I sometimes think the contemporary white American is more culturally deprived than the Indian.

It's a landscape that has to be seen to be believed. And, as I say on occasion, it may have to be believed in order to be seen.

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

I wonder if, in the dark night of the sea, the octopus dreams of me.

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.