I have killed, robbed, and injured too many white men to believe in a good peace.

I know Great Spirit is looking down upon me from above, and will hear what I say.

A cold wind blew on the prairie on the day the last buffalo fell. A death wind for my people.

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.

Healthy feet can feel the very heart of Mother Earth.

When I was a boy, the Sioux owned the world. The sun rose and set on their land; they sent ten thousand men to battle. Where are the warriors today? Who slew them? Where are our lands? Who owns them?

What white man has ever seen me drunk? Who has ever come to me hungry and left me unfed? Who has seen me beat my wives or abuse my children? What law have I broken?