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.
Chief SeattleThe 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.
Chief SeattleYour 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.
Chief SeattleAll things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man... the air shares its spirit with all the life it supports.
Chief SeattleHow can you buy or sell the sky, the warmth of the land? ... The end of living and the beginning of survival.
Chief SeattleWhen 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
Chief SeattleOur God, the Great Spirit, seems also to have forsaken us. Your God makes your people wax stronger every day. Soon they will fill all the land.
Chief SeattleThe 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.
Chief SeattleMan does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does to the web, he does to himself.
Chief SeattleAll things are connected, like the blood that runs in your family "The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father." 1854 The rivers are our brothers. They quench our thirst. They carry our canoes and feed our children. You must give to the rivers the kindness you would give to any brother.
Chief Seattle