The earth and myself are of one mind. The measure of the land and the neasure of our bodies are the same

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.

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

We did not know there were other people besides the Indian until about one hundred winters ago, when some men with white faces came to our country.

Governor Isaac Stevens of the Washington Territory said there were a great many white people in our country, and many more would come; that he wanted the land marked out so that the Indians and the white man could be separated.

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 know that my race must change.