O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done, / The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won

In the faces of men and women, I see God.

A man is a great thing upon the earth and through eternity; but every jot of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman.

My call is the call of battle- I nourish active rebellion;/ He going with me must go well armed.

That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again and ever again, this soiled world.

Now I will do nothing but listen to accrue what I hear into this song. To let sounds contribute toward it. I hear the sound I love. The sound of the human voice. I hear all sounds running together.

The genius of the United States is not best or most in its executives or legislatures, nor in its ambassadors or authors or colleges, or churches, or parlors, nor even in its newspapers or inventors, but always most in the common people.