Broken Arrow

Cochise:
White Painted Lady, I have old wounds.

Sonseeahray:
Yes, but each scar is a mark of love for your people. The path of your people is stretched long behind you, and you are the head, and you are the heart, and you are the blood. Killer of Enemies was your father and you are his son. You will be well.

Tom Jeffords:
Cochise can't even read a map, but he and his men know every gulley, every foot of every mountain, every waterhole in Arizona. His horses can go twice as far as yours in a day, and his men can run on foot as far as a horse can run. He can't write his name, but his intelligence service knows when you got to Fort Grant and how many men you got. He stopped the Butterfield Stage from running. He stopped the U.S. Mail from going through. And for the first time in Indian history, he has all the Apaches from all the tribes fighting under one command.

Cochise:
You should always wipe your hands on your arm after eating, tall one. The grease is good for them.

Tom Jeffords:
Ah, among the white men, we wash it off.

Cochise:
What a waste!

Cochise:
To talk of peace is not hard. To live it is very hard.

Cochise:
I break the arrow. I will try the way of peace.

Cochise:
Now I say this: the Americans keep cattle but they are not soft or weak. Why should not the Apache be able to learn new ways? It is not easy to change, but sometimes it is required. The Americans grow stronger while we grow weaker. If a big wind comes, a tree must bend... or be lifted out by the roots.

Juan, Teacher-Guide:
Remember this: if you see him, do not lie to him... not in the smallest thing. His eyes will see into your heart. He is greater than other men.

Tom Jeffords:
They found a pouch on one of the wounded men, and in the pouch were three Apache scalps. So they dug a pit in the ground and they rubbed his face with the juice of the mescal plant. And they made me watch the ants come.

Cochise:
You know what I am thinking? Maybe someday you will kill me, or I will kill you. But we will not spit on each other.

Tom Jeffords:
When the Indian wishes to signal his brother, he does so by smoke sign. This is the white man's signal. My brothers far away can look at this and understand my meaning. We call this mail. And the men who carry the mail are like the air that carries the Apache smoke signals.

Gen. Oliver 'The Christian General' Howard:
All are God's children.

Tom Jeffords:
Suppose their skins weren't white. Are they still God's children?

Tom Jeffords:
His words meant very little to me then, but as time passed, I came to know that the death of Sonseeahray had put a seal upon the peace. And from that day on wherever I went - in the cities, among the Apaches, in the mountains - I always remembered my wife was with me.