“Must be I find youtough and lusty as the life, all toil and tempo,finesse and plain fight,with values so old they startle me.Must be I think of youas I do the rugged flowersthat prove themselves over and over in the spring,that elsewhere might perish,but here master the earth,bloom into gangly lives of high color,and inhale the sun, knowing the landbetter than the land does.Hardy, savvy,they will outlive us all.”

“So in America when the sun goes down and I sit on the old broken-down river pier watching the long, long skies over New Jersey and sense all that raw land that rolls in one unbelievable huge bulge over to the West Coast, and all that road going, and all the people dreaming in the immensity of it, and in Iowa I know by now the children must be crying in the land where they let the children cry, and tonight the stars'll be out, and don't you know that God is Pooh Bear? the evening star must be drooping and shedding her sparkler dims on the prairie, which is just before the coming of complete night that blesses the earth, darkens all the rivers, cups the peaks and folds the final shore in, and nobody, nobody knows what's going to happen to anybody besides the forlorn rags of growing old, I think of Dean Moriarty, I even think of Old Dean Moriarty the father we never found, I think of Dean Moriarty.”

“I think if we all gardened more, they and all of the other birds that fly in the air above and light in my garden below would be better off. I know that God values them no less than I do. So when I plant in spring I also hope to taste of God in fruit of summer sun and sight of feathered friends.”

“Steam Lodge Song of the Sun Dance Ceremony:A voice, I will send. Hear me! The land All over, A voice I am sending! Hear me! I will live! ”

“Why must we fight for the right to live, over and over, each time the sun rises?”

“And you think journeying abroad will give you this knowledge you crave?I think it will contribute to my understanding of the world, of people.More so than say, the old lady who has lived in the same house her entire life, who has borne children both alive and dead? Who tends her soil; who sees the sun shine and the rain fall over the land, winter, spring, summer and autumn? What might you say to the idea that we all have a capacity for wisdom, just as a jug has room for a finite amount of water-pouring more water in the jug doesn't increase that capacity.”