I Did Not Want My People Killed.

We Live, We Die, And Like The Grass And Trees, Renew Ourselves From The Soft Earth Of The Grave. Stones Crumble And Decay, Faiths Grow Old And They Are Forgotten, But New Beliefs Are Born. The Faith Of The Villages Is Dust Now... But It Will Grow Again... Like The Trees.

The White Men Told Lies For Each Other. They Drove Off A Great Many Of Our Cattle. Some Branded Our Young Cattle So They Could Claim Them.

You Might As Well Expect Rivers To Run Backwards As Any Man Born Free To Be Contented Penned Up.

I Saw Clearly That War Was Upon Us When I Learned That My Young Men Had Been Secretly Buying Ammunition.

Big Name Often Stands On Small Legs.