Man Does Not Weave This Web Of

Like A Man Who Has Been Dying For Many Days, A Man In Your City Is Numb To The Stench.

The Indian Prefers The Soft Sound Of The Wind Darting Over The Face Of The Pond, The Smell Of The Wind Itself Cleansed By A Midday Rain, Or Scented With Pinon Pine. The Air Is Precious To The Red Man, For All Things Are The Same Breath - The Animals, The Trees, The Man.

Your God Is Not Our God! Your God Loves Your People And Hates Mine! He Folds His Strong Protecting Arms Lovingly About The Paleface And Leads Him By The Hand As A Father Leads An Infant Son.

If All The Beasts Were Gone, Men Would Die From A Great Loneliness Of Spirit, For Whatever Happens To The Beasts Also Happens To The Man. All Things Are Connected. Whatever Befalls The Earth Befalls The Sons Of The Earth.

How Can You Buy Or Sell The Sky, The Warmth Of The Land? ... The End Of Living And The Beginning Of Survival.