“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.”

Everything an Indian does is in a circle, and that is because the power of the world always works in circles, and everything tries to be round.

Because you know when you first become famous, you start walking a little different because people are staring at you.

Know the Power that is Peace.

Once we were happy in our own country and we were seldom hungry, for then the two-leggeds and the four-leggeds lived together like relatives, and there was plenty for them and for us.

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.

You’re free to dream however you wish,” Nollin teased. “But don’t ask the rest of us to share your unrealistic-” “Then don’t ask us to share your weakness!” Jason interrupted.

We cannot tolerate one mistake from others, and yet God tolerates a planet covered with His own creation that live their entire lives sinning and denying Him, and yet continues to feed, clothe and protect them.

As you walk upon the sacred earth, treat each step as a prayer.

One of the things I love about doing things that are creative is that I feel like it’s my right as an artist not to be affected by the reactions of those people that are going to hear my songs.

The power of the world always works in circles.

Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing, and always come back again to where they were.

Hear me, four quarters of the world-a relative I am! Give me the strength to walk the soft earth, a relative to all that is! Give me the eyes to see and the strength to understand, that I may be like you. With your power only can I face the winds.

Everything the Power of the World does is done in a circle.

It may be that some little root of the sacred tree still lives. Nourish it then, that it may leaf and bloom and fill with singing birds.

Any man who is attached to things of this world is one who lives in ignorance and is being consumed by the snakes of his own passions

Behold this day. It is yours to make.

I walked to the lake and sat on the shore for a few minutes, just staring at the moonlight on the water. Moonlight never gets old.

As a kid, I would’ve loved to get a tweet from David Bowie or Joan Rivers or Tom Cruise. It’s great that you can communicate with people and it’s instant.

We all end in the ocean. We all start in the streams. We’re all carried along, by the river of dreams.

Small streams don’t plan to be mighty rivers. We just move in a direction; God decides what He’ll have us become.

I report the assault on nature evidenced in coal mining that tears the tops off mountains and dumps them into rivers, sacrificing the health and lives of those in the river valleys to short-term profit.

The best verse hasn’t been rhymed yet, The best house hasn’t been planned, The highest peak hasn’t been climbed yet, The mightiest rivers aren’t spanned.

Those from whom we were born have long since departed, and those with whom we grew up exist only in memory. We, too, through the approach of death, become, as it were, trees growing on the sandy bank of a river.

It was the last time she’d see the river from that window. The last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself. This that I see now, she thought, to see no more this way.