This nation is like a spring freshet; it overruns its banks and destroys all who are in its path.

I do not wish to be shut up in a corral. All agency Indians I have seen are worthless. They are neither red warriors nor white farmers. They are neither wolf nor dog.

Now that we are poor, we are free. No white man controls our footsteps.

Each man is good in the sight of the Great Spirit.

Go back home where you came from. This country is mine, and I intend to stay here and to raise this country full of grown people.

What white woman, however lonely, was ever captive or insulted by me? Yet they say I am a bad Indian.

I am a red man. If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place.