Whatever Seattle Says, The Great

My Words Are Like The Stars That Never Change.

All Things Are Connected Like The Blood Which Unites One Family.

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

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.

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, Every Shining Pine Needle, Every Sandy Shore, Every Mist In The Dark Woods, Every Clear And Humming Insect Is Holy In The Memory And Experience Of My People.