"With my old man I got no respect. I asked him, "How can I get my kite in the air?" He told me to run off a cliff."

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The air is precious to the red man, for all things share the same breath-the beast, the tree, the man, they all share the same breath. The white man does not seem to notice the air he breathes. Like a man dying for many days, he is numb to the stench.

— Chief Seattle