You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet is the ashes of your grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have taught our children, that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves.

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

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.

Take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints!

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

The Indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the pond, the smell of the wind itself cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with pinon pine. The air is precious to the red man, for all things are the same breath - the animals, the trees, the man.

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.