QUOTES
Man
does not weave this web of life. He is merely a strand of it. Whatever he does
to the web, he does to himself.
"Whatever
befalls the earth, befalls the people of the earth."
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?
The
rivers are our brothers, they quench our thirst. The rivers carry our canoes,
and feed our children. If we sell you our land, you must remember, and teach your
children, that the rivers are our brothers and yours, and you must henceforth
give the rivers the kindness you would give any brother.
What
is man without the beasts? If all the beasts were gone, man would die from a great
loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the beasts, soon happens to
man. All things are connected.
The
Great Chief in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. How can you
buy or sell the sky? The warmth of the land? The idea is strange to us. Yet we
do not own the freshness of the air or the sparkle of the water. How can you buy
them from us? Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. We
know that the white man does not understand our ways. One portion of the land
is the same to him 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. He leaves his fathers' graves and his
children's birthright is forgotten. There is no quiet place in the white man's
cities. No place to hear the leaves of spring or the rustle of insect wings. But
perhaps because I am a savage and do not understand - the clatter only seems to
insult the ears. And what is there to life if a man cannot hear the lovely cry
of the whippoorwill or the arguments of the frog around the pond at night? The
whites too shall pass - perhaps sooner than other tribes. Continue to contaminate
your bed and you will one night suffocate in your own waste. When the buffalo
are all slaughtered, the wild horses all tamed, the secret corners of the forest
heavy with the scent of many men, and the view of the ripe hills blotted by talking
wires. Where is the eagle? Gone. Where is the buffalo? Gone. And what is it to
say goodbye to the swift and the hunt, the end of living and the beginning of
survival.
-- Chief Seattle, 1855
