“I might have been less good to the people than some man who had never dreamed at all, even with the memory of so great a vision in me.”

Grown men may learn from very little children, for the hearts of little children are pure, and, therefore, the Great Spirit may show to them many things which older people miss.

So I took the bright red stick and at the center of the nation’s hoop I thrust it in the earth.

We should understand well that all things are the work of the Great Spirit. We should know the Great Spirit is within all things: the trees, the grasses, the rivers, the mountains, and the four-legged and winged peoples; and even more important.

The Holy Land is everywhere.

We should understand that the Great Spirit is also above all these things and peoples.

And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being.

Everything tries to be round.

Everywhere is the center of the world. Everything is sacred.

It is good to have a reminder of death before us, for it helps us to understand the impermanence of life on this earth, and this understanding may aid us in preparing for our own death.

Let every step you take upon the earth be as a prayer.

I was four years old then, and I think it must have been the next summer that I first heard the voices.

There can never be peace between nations until there is first known that true peace which is within the souls of men.

It is hard to follow one great vision in this world of darkness and of many changing shadows. Among those men get lost.

The visions and ceremonies only made me like a whole through which the power could come to the two-leggeds.

Sometimes dreams are wiser than waking.

But if the Vision was true and mighty, as I know, it is true and mighty yet;for such things are of Spirit, and it is in the darkness of their eyes that men get lost.

My body is a field site of muscle memory and weathered bones.

Your memory is my opium – sustaining me daily, killing me softly.

I pledge to gather the dust and particles of my yesteryear’s burnt-out galaxies of memories until they transform into medals of victory in the museum of my life.

Experience has taught me, when I am shaving of a morning, to keep watch over my thoughts, because, if a line of poetry strays into my memory, my skin bristles so that the razor ceases to act.

Someday, we’re all going to be a memory. Be the kind that makes people smile when they remember you every once in a while.

Here dead lie we because we did not choose to live and shame the land from which we sprung. Life, to be sure, is nothing much to lose; but young men think it is, and we were young.

We forget cruelty and past betrayal, Heedless of where the next bright bolt may fall.

He found a formula for drawing comic rabbits: This formula for drawing comic rabbits paid. Till in the end he could not change the tragic habits This formula for drawing comic rabbits made.