I Saw That The War Could Not

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.

I Cannot Tell How Much My Heart Suffered For My People While At Leavenworth.

For A Short Time We Lived Quietly. But This Could Not Last. White Men Had Found Gold In The Mountains Around The Land Of Winding Water.

Words Do Not Pay For My Dead People.

An Indian Respects A Brave Man, But He Despises A Coward.