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.

I was very sorry when I found out that your intentions were good and not what I supposed they were.

Only seven years ago we made a treaty by which we were assured that the buffalo country should be left to us forever. Now they threaten to take that from us also.

Therefore, I do not wish to consider any proposition to cede any portion of our tribal holdings to the Great Father.

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

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.