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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.
Our true nationality is mankind.
Our true nationality is mankind.
That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain
force upon the plain of Marathon, or read more
That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain
force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow
warmer among the runs of Iona.
In Dr. Johnson's famous dictionary, patriotism is defined as the last refuge of a scoundrel. With all due respect to read more
In Dr. Johnson's famous dictionary, patriotism is defined as the last refuge of a scoundrel. With all due respect to an enlightened but inferior lexicographer, I beg to submit that it is the first.
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.]
Intellectually I know that America is no better than any other country; emotionally I know she is better than every read more
Intellectually I know that America is no better than any other country; emotionally I know she is better than every other country.
Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!
Strike--for your altars and your fires;
Strike--for the green graves of your sires.
God--and your native land!
"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."
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.
