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.

The white man's dead forget the country of their birth when they go to walk among the stars. Our dead never forget this beautiful Earth, for it is the mother of the red man. We are part of the Earth and it is part of us.

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.

Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine! He folds his strong protecting arms lovingly about the paleface and leads him by the hand as a father leads an infant son.

Earth does not belong to us; we belong to earth. Take only memories, leave nothing but footprints.

Tribe follows tribe, nations follow nations like the tides of the sea. It is the order of nature, and regret is useless.

This We Know. All Things Are Connected