What's to become of us?
Are we cliff-dwellers?
We're alone here.

I'm happy when I don't think.

These--these bones that fly into dust--they make me sick and a little afraid.

Did the people who lived here once have the same feelings as we have?
What was the good of their living at all?
They're gone! What's the meaning of it all--of us ?" "Bess, you ask more than I can tell.

It's beyond me.