Healthy feet can feel the very heart of Mother Earth.

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

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

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.

Every seed is awakened, and all animal life.

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

For us, warriors are not what you think of as warriors. The warrior is not someone who fights, because no one has the right to take another life. The warrior, for us, is one who sacrifices himself for the good of others. His task is to take care of the elderly, the defenseless, those who can not provide for themselves, and above all, the children, the future of humanity.