For the Lakota there was no wilderness. Nature was not dangerous but hospitable, not forbidding but friendly.

The old Lakota was wise. He knew that man's heart, away from nature, becomes hard; he knew that lack of respect for growing, living things soon led to lack of respect for humans too.

It is the mothers not the warriors who create a people and guide their destiny.

White men seem to have difficulty in realizing that people who live differently from themselves still might be traveling the upward and progressive road of life.

Knowledge was inherent in all things. The world was a library.

After all the great religions have been preached and expounded, man is still confronted with the Great Mystery.

Silence is the Mother of Truth, for the silent man was ever to be trusted, while the man ever ready with speech was never taken seriously.

The old Lakota was wise. He knew that a man's heart away from nature becomes hard.

The old people came literally to love the soil and they sat or reclined on the ground with a feeling of being close to a mothering power. The soil was soothing, strengthening, cleansing and healing.

Only to the white man was nature a 'wilderness'.

Certain small ways and observances sometimes have connection with large and more profound ideas.

In worthy teaching, all things are related.

It's amazing how, age after age, in country after country, and in all languages, Shakespeare emerges as incomparable.

You can shoot a show and have it not air. It's not real until it's airing.

I do not believe anyone has reached such perfection, surpassing all others, except Christ, to whom God immediately revealed - without words or visions - the conditions which lead to salvation.

Anyone who is going to establish a Palestinian state, anyone who is going to evacuate territories today, is simply giving a base for attacks to the radical Islam against Israel.

Art must touch our lives, our fears and cares – evoke our dreams and give hope to the darkness.

Every politician must be able to keep both feet on the fence with his ear to the ground.

That which makes man the mere plaything of fate is God.

The moral turpitude of the boys of today appears to center in their failure to concentrate on any particular objective long enough to obtain their maximum results.

Intuition is a suspension of logic due to impatience.