... What living and buried speech is vibrating here... what howls restrained by decorum... - Walt Whitman

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."

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.

If the wind will not serve, take to the oars. To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle.