From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines.

This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me

I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware, I sit content, And if each and all be aware, I sit content.

Seasons pursuing each other the indescribable crowd is gathered, it is the fourth of Seventh-month, (what salutes of cannon and small arms!

Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful stroke!

I see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, "Do not weep for me, This is not my true country, I have lived banished from my true country - I now go back there, I return to the celestial sphere where every one goes in his turn."

And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.