Wavoka

You ask me to plow the ground. Shall I take a knife and tear my mother’s bosom?
Then when I die she will not take me to her bosom to rest. “You ask me to
dig for stones! Shall I dig under her skin for bones? Then when I die I cannot
enter her body to be born again. “You ask me to cut grass and make hay and
sell it and be rich like white men, but how dare I cut my mother’s hair?
““