A person is forced inward by the spareness of what is outward and visible in all this land and sky. The beauty of the Plains is like that of an icon -- what seems stern and almost empty is merely open, a door into simple and holy state.
One of the most pathetic things about us human beings is our
touching belief that there are times when the truth is not good
enough for us; that it can and must be improved upon. We have
to be utterly broken before we can realize that it is impossible
to better the truth. It is the truth that we deny which so tenderly
and forgivingly picks up the fragments and puts them together again.
