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.

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.

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

How can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? ... The end of living and the beginning of survival.

. . . the deer, the horse, the great eagle, these are our brothers. The rocky crests, the juices in the meadows, the body heat of the pony and man - all belong to the same family. . . . The White Man must treat the beasts of this land as his brothers.

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.

We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors; we borrow it from our children