There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings. But perhaps it is because I am a savage and do not understand. The clatter only seems to insult the ears.

All things are bound together. All things connect.

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

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. If we do not own the freshness of the air and the sparkle of the water, how can you buy them? Every part of the earth is sacred to my people.

We are a part of the earth and it is part of us.

To us, the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground.

All things are connected like the blood which unites one family.