I Saw That The War Could Not

It Takes Few Words To Tell The Truth.

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 Eye Tells What The Tongue Would Hide.

Finest Fur May Cover Toughest Meat.

Our Chiefs Are Killed. . . . The Little Children Are Freezing To Death. . . . My People Have No Blankets, No Food. . . . My Heart Is Sick And Sad. . . . I Will Fight No More Forever.