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

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

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

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 white man can say I never stole his land or a penny of his money? Yet they say that I am a thief.

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.

This nation is like a spring freshet; it overruns its banks and destroys all who are in its path.