The White Man's Dead Forget The Country

Take Nothing But Memories, Leave Nothing But Footprints!

Only When The Last Tree Has Died And The Last River Has Been Poisoned And The Last Fish Has Been Caught Will We Realise That We Can Not Eat Money.

. . . The Deer, The Horse, The Great Eagle, These Are Our Brothers. The Rocky Crests, The Juices In The Meadows, The Body Heat Of The Pony And Man - All Belong To The Same Family. . . . The White Man Must Treat The Beasts Of This Land As His Brothers.

The Indian Prefers The Soft Sound Of The Wind Darting Over The Face Of The Pond, The Smell Of The Wind Itself Cleansed By A Midday Rain, Or Scented With Pinon Pine. The Air Is Precious To The Red Man, For All Things Are The Same Breath - The Animals, The Trees, The Man.

We Are Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us. The Perfumes Flowers Are Our Sisters; The Deer, The Horse, The Great Eagle: These Are Our Brothers. All Things Are Connected Like The Blood Which Unites One's Family.