Behold, My Friends, The Spring Is Come;

The White Man Knows How To Make Everything, But He Does Not Know How To Distribute It.

I Have Killed, Robbed, And Injured Too Many White Men To Believe In A Good Peace. They Are Medicine, And I Would Eventually Die A Lingering Death. I Had Rather Die On The Field Of Battle.

A Cold Wind Blew On The Prairie On The Day The Last Buffalo Fell. A Death Wind For My People.

It Is Through This Mysterious Power That We Too Have Our Being, And We Therefore Yield To Our Neighbors, Even To Our Animal Neighbors, The Same Right As Ourselves To Inhabit This Vast Land.

I Am Here By The Will Of The Great Spirit, And By His Will I Am Chief.