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

I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.

Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, if I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.

Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.

I open my scuttle at night and see the far-sprinkled systems, All all I see multiplied as high as I can cipher edge but the rim of the farther systems. Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward.

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, every inch of space is a miracle, every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; every spear of grass-the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that concerns them, all these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

The sum of all known value and respect, I add up in you, whoever you are.