There is no death, only a change of worlds.

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.

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

We do not own the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water. How can you buy them from us?

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.

The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath-the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.

Only when the last tree has died and the last river has been poisoned and the last fish has been caught will we realise that we can not eat money.