Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.
Finest fur may cover toughest meat.
I only ask of the Government to be treated as all other men are treated. If I cannot go to my own home, let me have a home in a country where my people will not die so fast.
When I think of our condition, my heart is heavy. I see men of my own race treated as outlaws and driven from country to country, or shot down like animals.
All people should be treated the same way on earth.
I did not want my people killed. I did not want bloodshed.
I will speak with a straight tongue.
We ask to be recognized as men.
When an Indian fights, he only shoots to kill.
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.
A man who would not love his father’s grave is worse than a wild animal.
I said in my heart that, rather than have war, I would give up my country.
My father was the first to see through the schemes of the white man.
I know that my race must change.
We ask only that the law shall work alike on all men.
I have asked some of the great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they please. They cannot tell me.
The earth is our mother. She should not be disturbed by hoe or plough. We want only to subsist on what she freely gives us.
We do not want churches. They will teach us to quarrel about God.
We had good white friends who advised us against taking the war path. My friend and brother, Mr. Chapman, told us just how the war would end.
With few words one can speak the truth.
I have heard talk and talk, but nothing is done. Good words do not last long unless they amount to something...