"My Grandmother was a Storyteller; She knew her way around Words. She never learned to read and write, but somehow She knew the good of reading and writing; She had learned how to Listen and Delight. She had learned that in Words and in Language, and there only, She could have whole and consummate Being. You see for Her, 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, and She never threw Words away. She told me Stories and She taught me how to Listen. I was a Child, and I Listened."