My father! The sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, and on her bosom I will recline.

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

Where today are the Pequot? Where are the Narragansett, the Mohican, the Pcanet, and other powerful tribes of our people? They have vanished before the avarice and oppression of the white man, as snow before the summer sun.

I am a Shawnee. My forefathers were warriors. Their son is a warrior. From them, I take my only existence.

When the legends die, the dreams end; there is no more greatness.

When you rise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.

Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.