I hope that no more groans of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit Chief above, and that all people may be one people.

Our chiefs are killed. . . . The little children are freezing to death. . . . My people have no blankets, no food. . . . My heart is sick and sad. . . . I will fight no more forever.

I believe much trouble and blood would be saved if we opened our hearts more. I will tell you in my way how the Indian sees things. The white man has more words to tell you how they look to him, but it does not require many words to speak the truth.

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.

I saw that the war could not be prevented. The time had passed.

The Great Spirit Chief who rules above all will smile upon this land... and this time the Indian race is waiting and praying.

We gave up some of our country to the white men, thinking that then we could have peace. We were mistaken. The white man would not let us alone.