God made me an Indian.
The meat of the buffalo tastes the same on both sides of the border.
Strangely enough, they have a mind to till the soil, and the love of possessions is a disease in them.
If the Great Spirit had desired me to be a white man he would have made me so in the first place. He put in your heart certain wishes and plans, and in my heart he put other and different desires. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows.
What treaty that the whites have kept has the red man broken? Not one.
God made me an Indian, but not a reservation Indian.