“Geronimo!”

“-Bir gözlük almalısın Geronimo.-Neden?-Her defasında dudaklarımı ıskalıyorsun.”

“I was warmed by the sun, rocked by the winds and sheltered by the trees as other Indian babes. I can go everywhere with a good feeling. — Geronimo 1829 – 1909 Apache”

“Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in one pretty and well preserved piece, but to slide acrossthe finish line broadside, thoroughly used up, worn out, leaking oil, and shouting GERONIMO!!!”

“She stood looking carefully at the labeled portraits Ursala had put up: Little Crow, Chief of the Santees, Geronimo, last of the Apaches, and Ursala's favorite, Big Foot, dying in the snow at Wounded Knee."Isn't that where the massacre was?" asked Ellen."Yes. I'm going to go there when I'm grown up. To Wounded Knee.""That seems sensible," said Ellen.”

“You better keep your mouths shut if you know what's good for you."Rider strolled up to her, a punch glass in each hand. "What's going on here? You look ready to take on Geronimo."The girls giggled and moved off across the room. Rider frowned and glanced back at Willow. "Were they making fun of you?""Yes." Embarrased, she refrained from commenting on the topic of their taunts. "I'd like to slap their silly smiles off their silly faces," she hissed.She took a step forward and, for a moment, Rider thought she meant to carry out her threat. He caught her arm. "Whoa, there.”