You might as well expect rivers to run backwards as any man born free to be contented penned up.

When the last deer disappears into the morning mist, When the last elk vanishes from the hills, When the last buffalo falls on the plains, I will hunt mice for I am a hunter and I must have my freedom.

Good words do not last long unless they amount to something.

We do not want churches because they will teach us to quarrel about God. We do not want to learn that. We may quarrel with men sometimes about things on this earth, but we never quarrel about the Great Spirit. We do not want to learn that.

It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and the broken promises.

Words do not pay for my dead people.

I cannot tell how much my heart suffered for my people while at Leavenworth.