Walking, I am listening to a deeper way. Suddenly all my ancestors are behind me. Be still, they say. Watch and listen. You are the result of the love of thousands.

I must hide him in my inmostveins The Ancestor ... He is my faithful blood that demands fidelity Protecting my naked pride against Myself and the scorn of luckier races.

Let us listen to the voices of our Forebears ... In the smoky cabin, souls that wish us well are murmuring.

No man beholds his mother's womb Yet who denies it's there? Coiled To the navel of the world is that Endless cord that links us all To the great Origin. If I lose my way. The trailing cord will bring me to the roots.

If today I had a young mind to direct to start on the journey of life and I was faced with the duty of choosing between the natural way of my forefathers and that of the white man's present way of civilization, I would, for its welfare, unhesitatingly set that child's feet in the path of my forefathers. I would raise him to be an Indian!

If you want to understand me come, bend over this soul of Africa in the black dock-worker's groans the Chope's frenzied dances the Changanas' rebellion in the strange sadness which flows from an African song, through the night.

I have lived in the redness of the stones that mark a path through my blood; I am the descendant of a forgotten race, but I carry in my hands the remnants of their fire.

[The] Hopi earth does contain my roots and I am, indeed, from that land. Because the roots are there, I will find them. But when I find them, [my father] said, I must rebuild myself as a Hopi. I am not merely a conduit, but a participant. I am not a victim, but a woman.

All blood is alike ancient.

The man without a navel still lives in me.