I will not dwell on, nor mourn over, our untimely decay, nor reproach my paleface brothers with hastening it, as we too may have been somewhat to blame.

Man does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.

Our religion is the traditions of our ancestors - the dreams of our old men, given them in solemn hours of the night by the Great Spirit; and the visions of our sachems, and is written in the hearts of our people.

Like a man who has been dying for many days, a man in your city is numb to the stench.

All things are connected. Whatever befalls the Earth, befalls the children of the Earth.

There is no death, only a change of worlds.

How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness?