We Do Not Own The Freshness Of

The Earth Is Our Mother. Whatever Befalls The Earth Befalls The Sons Of Earth. If Men Spit Upon The Ground, They Spit Upon Themselves.

Tribe Follows Tribe, Nations Follow Nations Like The Tides Of The Sea. It Is The Order Of Nature, And Regret Is Useless.

When The Green Hills Are Covered With Talking Wires And The Wolves No Longer Sing, What Good Will The Money You Paid For Our Land Be Then

What Is There To Life If A Man Cannot Hear The Lonely Cry Of The Whippoorwill Or The Arguments Of The Frogs Around The Pool At Night?

We Are Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us ... What Befalls The Earth Befalls All The Sons Of The Earth.