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THIS dust was once the Man, / Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand, / Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age, / Was saved the Union of These States.
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I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of a man.
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There can be no theory of any account unless it corroborate with the theory of the earth.
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Day full-blown and splendid-day of the immense sun, action, ambition, laughter, The Night follows close with millions of suns, and sleep and restoring darkness.
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If there were nothing else of Abraham Lincoln for history to stamp him with, it is enough to send him with his wreath to the memory of all future time, that he endured that hour, that day, bitterer than gall - indeed a crucifixion day - that it did not conquer him - that he unflinchingly stemmed it, and resolved to lift himself and the Union out of it.
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The truest and greatest Poetry, (while subtly and necessarily always rhythmic, and distinguishable easily enough) can never again, in the English language, be express'd in arbitrary and rhyming metre, any more than the greatest eloquence, or the truest power and passion.
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I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.
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A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
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A man can be a hero in any profession.
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NOT I - NOT ANYONE else, can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.
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O the joy of my spirit--it is uncaged--it darts like lightning! It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time, I will have thousands of globes and all time.
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I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers.
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In all people I see myself - none more, and not one a barleycorn less; And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.
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My words itch at your ears till you understand them.
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Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young, / The young are beautiful--but the old are more beautiful than the young.
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O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.
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Be not ashamed women, ... You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
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Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.
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I see behind each mask that wonder a kindred soul.
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I think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost .
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This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
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Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs !
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There is no God any more divine than Yourself.
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Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life.