The Earth Is Our Mother. Whatever Befalls

When The Green Hills Are Covered With Talking Wires And The Wolves No Longer Sing, What Good Will The Money You Paid For Our Land Be Then

There Is No Death, Only A Change Of Worlds.

. . . The Deer, The Horse, The Great Eagle, These Are Our Brothers. The Rocky Crests, The Juices In The Meadows, The Body Heat Of The Pony And Man - All Belong To The Same Family. . . . The White Man Must Treat The Beasts Of This Land As His Brothers.

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.

Only When The Last Tree Has Died And The Last River Has Been Poisoned And The Last Fish Has Been Caught Will We Realise That We Can Not Eat Money.