What White Woman, However Lonely, Was Ever

I Have Killed, Robbed, And Injured Too Many White Men To Believe In A Good Peace. They Are Medicine, And I Would Eventually Die A Lingering Death. I Had Rather Die On The Field Of Battle. Look At Me, See If I Am Poor, Or My People Either. The Whites May Get Me At Last, As You Say, But I Will Have Good Times Till Then. You Are Fools To Make Yourselves Slaves To A Piece Of Fat Bacon, Some Hard-tack, And A Little Sugar And Coffee.

If I Agree To Dispose Of Any Part Of Our Land To The White People I Would Feel Guilty Of Taking Food Away From Our Children's Mouths, And I Do Not Wish To Be That Mean.

For Us, Warriors Are Not What You Think Of As Warriors. The Warrior Is Not Someone Who Fights, Because No One Has The Right To Take Another Life. The Warrior, For Us, Is One Who Sacrifices Himself For The Good Of Others. His Task Is To Take Care Of The Elderly, The Defenseless, Those Who Can Not Provide For Themselves, And Above All, The Children, The Future Of Humanity.

I Wish It To Be Remembered That I Was The Last Man Of My Tribe To Surrender My Rifle.

If A Man Loses Anything And Goes Back And Looks Carefully For It, He Will Find It.