We know that the white man does not understand our ways. 
One portion of the land is the same to hirn as the next;  
-for 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. . 

 His appetite will devour the Earth and leave behind only a desert 

The sight of your cities pains the eyes . . . 
There is no quiet place in the white man's cities. 
 No place to hear the waves of spring or the rustle of insect's wings.... 
And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lovely cry of the whip-poor-will, 
 or the argument of frogs around a pond at night?  
The indian prefers the soft sound of the wind darting over the face of the pond, 
 and the srnell of the wind itself, cleansed by a midday rain, or scented with pinion  pine.  

The air is precious to the redman;. for all things share the same breath - the beasts, the trees, the man.  
The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes 
Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the smell of his own stench. 
I have seen a thousand rotting buffaloes on the prairies, 
left by the white man who shot them from a passing train. 
I am a savage and do not understand how the smoking iron horse can be more important than the buffalo that we kill only to live. 

 What is man without the beasts? 
 If all the beasts were gone, men would die from great loneliness of spirit, for whatever happens to the beast also happens to man.  
All things are connected.... One thing we know that the white man may one day discover. 
 Our God is the same God.... 
 This Earth is precious to him and to harm the Earth is to heap contempt on its creator.... 

When the last redman has vanished from the Earth, 
and the memory is only the shadow of a cloud moving across the prairie,  
these shores and forests will still hold the spirits of my people,  
for they love the Earth as the newborn loves its mother's heartbeat.....