White men seem to have difficulty in realizing that people who live differently from themselves still might be traveling the upward and progressive road of life.

Only to the white man was nature a 'wilderness'.

The American Indian is of the soil, whether it be the region of forests, plains, pueblos, or mesas. He fits into the landscape, for the hand that fashioned the continent also fashioned the man for his surroundings. He once grew as naturally as the wild sunflowers, he belongs just as the buffalo belonged.

It is the mothers not the warriors who create a people and guide their destiny.

Silence is the Mother of Truth, for the silent man was ever to be trusted, while the man ever ready with speech was never taken seriously.

The man who sat on the ground in his tipi meditating on life and its meaning, accepting the kinship of all creatures and acknowledging unity with the universe of things, was infusing into his being the true essence of civilization.

White men seem to have difficulty in realizing that people who live differently from themselves still might be traveling the upward and progressive road of life.