My Words Are Like The Stars That

Contaminate Your Bed And You Will One Night Suffocate In Your Own Waste.

To Harm The Earth Is To Heap Contempt On Its Creator.

When The Earth Is Sick, The Animals Will Begin To Disappear, When That Happens, The Warriors Of The Rainbow Will Come To Save Them.

There Is No Quiet Place In The White Man's Cities. No Place To Hear The Unfurling Of Leaves In Spring, Or The Rustle Of An Insect's Wings. But Perhaps It Is Because I Am A Savage And Do Not Understand. The Clatter Only Seems To Insult The Ears.

Our Religion Is The Traditions Of Our Ancestors - The Dreams Of Our Old Men, Given Them In Solemn Hours Of The Night By The Great Spirit; And The Visions Of Our Sachems, And Is Written In The Hearts Of Our People.