If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.

The goldenrod is yellow, The corn is turning brown, The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.

Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last.

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families

That indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.

Stain my eyes as I may, on all sides all is black.

I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.