The Water's Murmur Is The

My Words Are Like The Stars That Never Change.

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.

We Are Part Of The Earth And It Is Part Of Us ... What Befalls The Earth Befalls All The Sons Of The Earth.

How Can Your God Become Our God And Renew Our Prosperity And Awaken In Us Dreams Of Returning Greatness?

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? Every Part Of The Earth Is Sacred To My People.