The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield
and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all read more

The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield
and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone all over
this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when
again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of
our nature.

I have ten thousand for defense, but none to surrender; if you
want our weapons come and get them.

I have ten thousand for defense, but none to surrender; if you
want our weapons come and get them.

To preserve the life of citizens, is the greatest virtue in the
father of his country.
[Lat., Servare read more

To preserve the life of citizens, is the greatest virtue in the
father of his country.
[Lat., Servare cives, major est virtus patriae patri.]

American is the crucible of God. It is the melting pot where all
the races are fusing and reforming read more

American is the crucible of God. It is the melting pot where all
the races are fusing and reforming . . . these are the fires of
God you've come to. . . . Into the crucible with you all. God is
making the American.

Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]

Our country is wherever we are well off.
[Lat., Patria est, ubicunque est bene.]

The die was now cast; I had passed the Rubicon. Swim or sink,
live or die, survive or perish read more

The die was now cast; I had passed the Rubicon. Swim or sink,
live or die, survive or perish with my country was my unalterable
determination.

"My country, right or wrong," is a thing that no patriot would
think of saying except in a desperate read more

"My country, right or wrong," is a thing that no patriot would
think of saying except in a desperate case. It is like saying,
"My mother, drunk or sober."

My country is the world, and my religion to do good.

My country is the world, and my religion to do good.

The line of red are lines of blood, nobly and unselfishly shed by
men who loved the liberty of read more

The line of red are lines of blood, nobly and unselfishly shed by
men who loved the liberty of their fellowmen more than they loved
their fellowmen more than they lover their own lives and
fortunes. God forbid that we would have to use the blood of
America to freshen the color of the flag. But if it should ever
be necessary, that flag will be colored once more, and in being
colored will be glorified and purified.