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I look up for my land and see instead something like a bird playing tag against the moonshine
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I look up for my land and see instead something like a bird playing tag against the moonshine
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N.C. Wyeth
(American, 1882 - 1945)
I look up for my land and see instead something like a bird playing tag against the moonshine
1919
dimensions unavailable
SUPP2000.1638
known by reproduction only
Not on view
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I turned cold as I thought of her playing with her doll while I had been out on the prairie laying poison plots against her innocence, her trust in me
N.C. Wyeth
1921
"Look, look!," he whispered from behind teeth that clicked like castanets. "See! He's coming!"
N.C. Wyeth
1914
"I wish you could see yourself; I wish I could tell you how you look."
N.C. Wyeth
1930 / 1931
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for I see the cheeks are powder-burnt and there's a mark acrost his forehead like it was one time split open
I see the cheeks are powder-burnt and there's a mark acrost his forehead like it was one time split open
N.C. Wyeth
1919
"I laid me down flat on my belly on the ground, and began to look for the place"
N.C. Wyeth
1920
"My father, a wise and grave man, gave me serious and excellent counsel against what he foresaw was my design"
N.C. Wyeth
1920
"I may never see this spot again, Deerslayer," she said, "and it contains the bodies of my mother and sister!"
N.C. Wyeth
1925
Now he knew--the gods had reserved her for him! He leaped at her like a lion, shouting: "I too have found what I wanted--my share of the wealth of Asia!"
N.C. Wyeth
1931
Dropping one of the sage-hens I asked the man behind me to pick it up. As he was groping for it I pulled one of my Colt's revolvers, and hit him over the head. He dropped senseless. // "Wheeling about I saw that the other man, hearing the fall, had turned, his hand upon his revolver. It was no time for argument. I fired and killed him."
N.C. Wyeth
1916
"Look!" cried Crawford exultantly. "What you see? . . . Jim!" "Amber's mirage!"
N.C. Wyeth
1929
"I would like to have known my grandfather better"
N.C. Wyeth
1934
The Renegade Monk
"By the black rood of Waltham!" he roared, "if any knave among you lays a finger-end upon the edge of my gown, I will crush his skull like a filbert!"
N.C. Wyeth
1922
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. . . they'd seen me shooting about five feet into the air