Comrades mine and I in the midst, and their memory ever to keep for the dead I loved so well.

I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I know nothing grander, better exercise, better digestion, more positive proof of the past, the triumphant result of faith in human kind, than a well-contested American national election.

not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.

There is that indescribable freshness and unconsciousness about an illiterate person that humbles and mocks the power of the noblest expressive genius.

The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here - that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

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.