I am tired of talk that comes to nothing.

It does not require many words to speak the truth.

I believe much trouble would be saved if we opened our hearts more.

I do not believe that the Great Spirit Chief gave one kind of men the right to tell another kind of men what they must do.

Our chiefs are killed. . . . The little children are freezing to death. . . . My people have no blankets, no food. . . . My heart is sick and sad. . . . I will fight no more forever.

The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have equal rights upon it.

I have asked some of the great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while he sees white men going where they please. They cannot tell me.

Good words do not last long unless they amount to something.

Treat all men alike. Give them the same law. Give them an even chance to live and grow.

Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and the broken promises.

If you really love someone, ' Claudia continued, 'you have to be prepared to accept them as they are. Maybe you hope that one day they get a wake-up call and make the changes for their own reasons.

Every age needs men who will redeem the time by living with a vision of things that are to be.

Oh, I was completely hooked on movies and plays and theater from the time I was a day old; I was very, very early on in love with movies and I loved plays.

We should celebrate immigrants and everything they do for our country.

Pound for pound, your show is the best of its kind. I'm always learning from your great content!

Let us build our lives of faith on the rock who is Christ.

If you want to be trusted, be trustworthy.

People love to be scared. I guess it's a primal deal.

Murderers, in general, are people who are consistent, people who are obsessed with one idea and nothing else.

In luck or out the toil has left its mark: That old perplexity an empty purse, Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.