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. It is not necessary for eagles to be crows. Now we are poor but we are free. No white man controls our footsteps. If we must die, we die defending our rights.

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

I am here by the will of the Great Spirit, and by his will I am chief.

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

Inside of me there are two dogs. One is mean and evil and the other is good and they fight each other all the time. When asked which one wins I answer, the one I feed the most.

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