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.

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.

Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons.

We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, for he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on.

The white man's God cannot love our people or He would protect them. They seem to be orphans who can look nowhere for help. How then can we be brothers?

When the green hills are covered with talking wires and the wolves no longer sing, what good will the money you paid for our land be then

All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.