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

They want us to give up another chunk of our tribal land. This is not the first time or the last time.

Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love!

I have killed, robbed, and injured too many white men to believe in a good peace. They are medicine, and I would eventually die a lingering death. I had rather die on the field of battle. Look at me, see if I am poor, or my people either. The whites may get me at last, as you say, but I will have good times till then. You are fools to make yourselves slaves to a piece of fat bacon, some hard-tack, and a little sugar and coffee.

The white man knows how to make everything, but he does not know how to distribute it.

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.

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.