The President in Washington sends word that he wishes to buy our land. But how can you buy or sell the sky? The land? The idea is strange to us. Every part of this earth is sacred to my people. Every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, every meadow, all are holy in memory and experience of my people. We are part of the earth and it is part of us. The perfumed flowers are our sisters. The bear, the deer, the great eagle, these are our brothers. Each ghostly reflection in the clear water of the lakes tells of events and memories in the life of my people. The water's murmur is the voice of my father's father. If we sell our land, you must never forget that it is sacred.
Seattle, Chief of the DuwamishDer Spruch darf mit Autorenangabe frei verwendet werden, da die urheberrechtliche Schutzfrist abgelaufen ist
There is no peace in the white man's cities. Nowhere can you hear the leaves growing in the spring or the rubbing of the wings of insects. In the cities, the noise is an outrage to man's ears.
Seattle, Chief of the DuwamishDer Spruch darf mit Autorenangabe frei verwendet werden, da die urheberrechtliche Schutzfrist abgelaufen ist
Jeder Teil dieser Erde ist meinem Volk heilig. Jede glänzende Kiefernnadel, jeder lichte Nebel in dunklen Wäldern, jede Lichtung und jedes summende Insekt ist heilig in der Erinnerung und der Erfahrung meines Volkes.
Seattle, Häuptling der DuwamishDer Spruch darf mit Autorenangabe frei verwendet werden, da die urheberrechtliche Schutzfrist abgelaufen ist
