»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?…

…We are part of the Earth and it is part of us…

…We know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of land is the same to him as the next, he is a stranger who comes in the night and takes from the land whatever he needs. The Earth is not his brother, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on. He leaves his father's grave, and his children's birthright are forgotten. He treats his mother, the Earth, and his brother, the sky…

…Our ways are different from your ways. The sight of your cities pains the eyes of the red man. But perhaps it is because the red man is a savage, and does not  understand.
There is no quiet place in white man's cities. No place to hear the unfurling of leaves in spring, or the rustle of an insect's wings…

…I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairie, left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. I am a savage and I do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to stay alive. What is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great loneliness of spirit. Whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to man. All things are connected.
You must teach your children that the ground beneath their feet are the ashes of your grandfathers. So that they will respect the land, tell your children that the earth is rich with the lives of our kin. Teach your children what we have tought our children, that the earth is our mother. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth. If men spit upon the ground, they spit upon themselves. This we know: The earth does not belong  to man, man belongs to the earth. This we know. All things are connected like the blood which unites one family. All things are connected. Whatever befalls the earth befalls the sons of the earth…

…Where is the thicket? Gone. Where is the eagle? Gone. The end of living, and the beginning of survival…

…My words are like the stars that never change. Whatever Seattle says, the great chief at Washington can rely upon with as much certainty as he can upon the return of the sun or the seasons. The white chief says that Big Chief at Washington sends us greetings of friendship and goodwill. This is kind of him for we know he has little need of our friendship in return…

…When our young men grow angry at some real or imaginary wrong, and disfigure their faces with black paint, it denotes that their hearts are black, and that they are often cruel and relentless, and our old men and old women are unable to restrain them…

…We would have everything to lose and nothing to gain. Revenge by young men is considered gain, even at the cost of their own lives, but old men who stays at home in times of war, and mothers who have sons to lose, know better…

…But can that ever be? Your God is not our God! Your God loves your people and hates mine!…

…How then can we be brothers? How can your God become our God and renew our prosperity and awaken in us dreams of returning greatness? If we have a common Heavently Father He must be partial, for He came to His paleface children. We never saw Him…

…To us the ashes of our ancestors are sacred and their resting place is hallowed ground. You wander far from the graves of your ancestors and seemingly without regret. Your religion was written upon tablets of stone by the iron finger of your God so that you could not forget. The red man could never comprehend or remember it. 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…

…And when the last Red Man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among the White Men, these shores will swarm with the invisible deadof my tribe, and when your children's children think themselves alone field, the store, the shop, upon the highway, or in the silence of the pathless woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth is no place dedicated to solitude. At night when the streets if your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them and still love this beautiful land…

…Dead, did I say? – There is no death, only a change of worlds.«
                                                                            Chief Seattle

Haugh!