… Time in The Democratic Forest is the galvanic present, but … the past, in its flickering and shadowings, is also integral to this book. (I take it as the viewer’s standing privilege of turning back to the book’s beginning if the need is felt to re-visit it for freshly discovered reasons.) In the home place — any home place in the world — the long view is the one like memory’s view: it shows us everything at once.
… A clear spring rises somewhere on the home place, for the human strain begins there for Mr. Eggleston, and we see in it what follows: it turns into a river that runs through, or underneath every place succeeding it. Whatever is done to block it or to stop its flow, it surfaces again.