For we cannot tarry here, We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger, We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!

I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.

Day by day and night by night we were together - all else has long been forgotten by me.

Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.

The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.

A simple separate person is not contained between his hat and his boots.

More and more too, the old name absorbs into me. Mannahatta, 'the place encircled by many swift tides and sparkling waters.' How fit a name for America's great democratic island city! The word itself, how beautiful! how aboriginal! how it seems to rise with tall spires, glistening in sunshine, with such New World atmosphere, vista and action!