I speak the password primeval; I give the sign of democracy.

I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

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

The future is no more uncertain than the present.

The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.

Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.