Hear me people: We have now to deal with another race - small and feeble when our fathers first met them, but now great and overbearing. Strangely enough they have a mind to till the soil and the love of possession is a disease with them. These people have made many rules that the rich may break but the poor may not. They take their tithes from the poor and weak to support the rich and those who rule.

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

What does it matter how long I pray, so long as my prayers are answered?

What treaty that the whites have kept has the red man broken? Not one.

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

I wish it to be remembered that I was the last man of my tribe to surrender my rifle.

As individual fingers we can easily be broken, but all together we make a mighty fist.