Tomson Highway Quotes

English is so hierarchical. In Cree, we don't have animate-inanimate comparisons between things. Animals have souls that are equal to ours. Rocks have souls, trees have souls. Trees are 'who,' not 'what.

There's a major fault in Western society. It makes room for only one god, and in only one gender. There's no balance, no co-existence, no partnership.

Don't mourn me. Be joyful.

I mean, if Native languages have no gender, then why should we? And why, for that matter, should God?

What I did, I did on my own. Don't mourn me. Be joyful.

Wars start when two parties haven't taken the time to learn each other's tongues

The Trickster, of course," Gabriel finally answered himself, "Weesageechak for sure. The clown who bridges humanity and God - a God who laughs, a God who's here, not for guilt, not for suffering, but for a good time. Except this time, the Trickster representing God as a woman, a goddess in fur. Like in this picture. I've always thought that, ever since we were little kids. I mean, if Native languages have no gender, then why should we? And why, for that matter, should God?

Was the colonization of North America not every bit as bloody as the French Revolution?

We're Indian! We have a right to conduct our own religious ceremonies, just like everyone else!

I mean, if Native languages have no gender, then why should we?

The mall,” said Jeremiah early next morning as he reached for the handle of the large glass door, “was invented in Winnipeg,

At night, when the streets of your cities and villages are silent, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled them, and still love this beautiful land. The white man will never be alone. Let him be just and deal kindly with my people. For the dead are not powerless.

So although in one language, humankind is forbidden to eat the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, in the other it is not only permitted, it is encouraged. That is precisely what that goddamn tree is there for, for humankind to suck from its fruit, and suck and suck and suck and suck, thirty times a day if necessary.

Jeremiah's words, in English, were as cold as drops from a melting block of ice. "Even if we told them, they would side with Father Lafleur." Selecting one of the free Native languages that she knew— English would remain, for life, beyond her reach and that of her husband's— Mariesis turned to Jeremiah. "What are you saying, my sons?" If moments can be counted as minutes can, or hours or days or years, one thousand of them trickled by before Jeremiah was absolutely sure Gabriel's silence would remain until the day they died. And then he said, his voice flat, "Maw keegway." Nothing.

Essentially a comic, clownish sort of character, his role is to teach us about the nature and the meaning of existence on the planet Earth; he straddles the consciousness of man and that of God, the Great Spirit.

The most explicit distinguishing feature between the North American Indian languages and the European languages is that in Indian, there is no gender. In Cree, Ojibway, etc., unlike English, French, German, etc., the male-female-neuter hierarchy is entirely absent. So that by this system of thought, the central hero figure from our mythology - theology, if you will - is theoretically neither exclusively male nor exclusively female, or is both simultaneously.

Some say that Weesaceechak left this continent when the white man came. We believe she/he is still here among us - albeit a little the worse for ear and tear - having assumed other guises. Without the continued presence of this extraordinary figure, the core of Indian culture would be gone forever.

As a certain philosopher of ancient Greece once put it, the difference between the historian and poet/storyteller is that where the historian relates what happened, the storyteller tells us how it might have come about.

He narrowed his eyes to slits so that he could peer into the eyes of this shameless, strutting personage to whom, apparently, modesty was unknown. He took careful note of the fact that the king - "Lucy," the priest called him - was not glaring venomously. King Lucy was grinning, King Lucy was having a good time.

Look. What use is there pretending to be what you are not? You and me and your little brother, we're the only three Indians in a school filled with two thousand white middle-class kids. We can't let them walk all over us.

Them little ol' priests, the things they did? Pooh! No wonder us Indian folk are all the shits.

Only old people go to church, when they know they're running out of time.

These church-goers, they talk about respect, and love and peace and all that jazz, and the minute they're out of that church, they're just as mean and selfish as they were before. It's as if going to church gives them the right to act like, well...like assholes. They're not all like that, take out parents. They're Catholics and they're good people. Yes, they are, but what about all those Catholics and Protestants in Northern Ireland? Blowing each other's brains out over the love of Jesus Christ. That's political. It has nothing to do with religion or, or, or spiritual belief. Yes it does. Every war in the history of the world has had religion at its root. And what about those guys who beat the shit out of their wives while the host is still melting on their tongues? All that does is make one lose respect for organized religion.

He's not finished talking to us," Gabriel shot back, suddenly gripped by hatred of the priest, of the power he wielded. Father Bouchard knew precisely whom Gabriel's fury was meant for. But he knew, too, that Holy Orders were as impregnable as granite.

Show me the bastard who come up with this notion that who's running the goddamn show is some grumpy, embittered, sexually frustrated old fart with a long white beard hiding like a gutless coward behind some puffed-up cloud and I'll slice his goddamn balls off.

Weesageechak for sure. The clown who bridges humanity and God-a God who laughs, a God who's here, not for guilt, not for suffering, but for a good time.

Wars start when two parties haven't taken the time to learn each other's tongues.

You never told us how to spend time alone in the midst of half a million people. Here, stars don't shine at night, trees don't speak.

You can sell a woman? In cities, it's done all the time, all the time. It's like selling meat.

There were many bloody period in human history, many of them occurring right here in North America.

Amanda said that Indian religion listens to the drum, to the heartbeat of Mother Earth. That's pagan, Gabriel, savages do that kind of thing. How can you listen to people like--? Christianity asks people to eat the flesh of Christ and drink his blood-shit, Jeremiah, eating human flesh, that's cannibalism. What could be more savage-? Jesus wasn't a man. He was the Son of God. Hah! Do you wonder why the world is so filled with blood and war and hate when it has, as its central symbol, an instrument of torture? The crucifix is a symbol of ope, for God's sake, Amanda, I mean Gabriel! It's an instrument of love! Sure. An instrument of love. If you're into whips and chains and pain. Where do you think them priests get their jollies?

Where, exactly, was this hell?

These church-goers," Gabriel felt obliged to fill the silence, "they talk about respect, and love and peace and all that jazz, and the minute they're out of that church, they're just as mean and selfish as they were before. It's as if going to church gives them the right to act like, well... like assholes.

Yes, but Father," he wanted to say from the back seat of a rapidly filling bus, "you never told us how to spend time alone in the midst of half a million people. Here, stars don't shine at night, trees don't speak.

Yet he knew that destiny played with lives; the most a parent could do was help steer.

if machipoowamoowin, bad dream power, was obvioulsy powerful enough to snuff out a human life, then would not mithoopoowamoowin, good dream power, be as strong?

But Gabriel saw people talking to the sky, the sky replying. And he knew he had to learn this dance. Someday soon, he may need it.

Time had slowed down to a dreamlike pace. “I can see ten miles below me, the lakes, the islands, the beaches, the rivers, the forests, the rocks, the town named Kisoos, the geese, the foxes, the wolves, the bears, the moose, the beaver, the mink, the trout, the town named Kitoon, the whitefish, the pike, the pickerel, the robins, the terns, the hawks, the owls, the spiders, the ants, the grass, the town named Poosees, the ferns, the spruce, the violets, the wild pink roses, the wild cranberries, the whole wide world in all its splendour. It’s amazing.” He started weeping and weeping and weeping, not with sadness but with a joy he had known only in dreams.

All native languages are in danger of dying in Canada. We must each do our part in any way we can to preserve these languages. Cree is my native tongue, the first language I spoke when I came into this earth, so I feel it's my responsibility to do whatever I can to help preserve it.

Language preservation is like saving the birds. We don’t want birds to go extinct. Imagine Canada without the sound of a loon. It’s a classic Canadian sound. Canada would lose part of its soul if loons went extinct. It’s the same thing with languages. Native languages, in this country, or in any country, are part of its sonic environment. It’s part of our connection with the earth. We must each do our part in any way we can to preserve these languages.