We Do Not Own The Freshness Of

How Can You Buy Or Sell The Sky, The Warmth Of The Land? The Idea Is Strange To Us. If We Do Not Own The Freshness Of The Air And The Sparkle Of The Water, How Can You Buy Them? Every Part Of The Earth Is Sacred To My People, Every Shining Pine Needle, Every Sandy Shore, Every Mist In The Dark Woods, Every Clear And Humming Insect Is Holy In The Memory And Experience Of My People.

We Are A Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us.

There Is No Death, Only A Change Of Worlds.

Every Part Of The Earth Is Sacred To My People.

Your God Loves Your People And Hates Mine; He Folds His Strong Arms Lovingly Around The White Man And Leads Him As A Father Leads His Infant Son, But He Has Forsaken His Red Children; He Makes Your People Wax Strong Every Day, And Soon They Will Fill The Land; While My People Are Ebbing Away Like A Fast-receding Tide, That Will Never Flow Again. The White Man's God Cannot Love His Red Children Or He Would Protect Them. They Seem To Be Orphans Who Can Look Nowhere For Help.