We live, we die, and like the grass and trees, renew ourselves from the soft earth of the grave. Stones crumble and decay, faiths grow old and they are forgotten, but new beliefs are born. The faith of the villages is dust now... but it will grow again... like the trees.

I would have given my own life if I could have undone the killing of white men by my people.

I will speak with a straight tongue.

A man who would not love his father's grave is worse than a wild animal.

When an Indian fights, he only shoots to kill.

We live, we die, and like the grass and trees, renew ourselves from the soft earth of the grave. Stones crumble and decay, faiths grow old and they are forgotten, but new beliefs are born. The faith of the villages is dust now... but it will grow again... like the trees.

We damaged all the big guns we could, and carried away the powder and the lead.