Yes, Dan’l Webster’s dead – or, at least, they buried him. But every time there’s a thunderstorm around Marshfield, they say you can hear his rolling voice in the hollows of the sky.
You can’t depend on the kind of folks people think they are – you’ve got to go by what they do. And I wouldn’t give much for a man that some folks hadn’t thought was a fool, in his time.
We can no longer take our own way of life for granted – we know that it may be challenged. And we know this, too – and know it ever more deeply – we know that freedom and democracy are not just big words mouthed by orators but the rain and the wind and the sun, the air and the light by which we breathe and live.
You work hard, and you’ll rise. But, if you’ve got any foolish notions, just knock them on the head and forget them.
Let each one of us say, ‘I am an American. I intend to stay an American. I will do my best to wipe from my heart hate, rancor and political prejudice. I will sustain my government. And, through good days or bad, I will try to serve my country.’
It is forbidden to go east, but I have gone, forbidden to go on the great river, but I am there. Open your hearts, you spirits, and hear my song.
Trouble with women. Can’t do any art and be married if you’re in love with your wife.
It is hard to put aside partisanship. It is hard to give up the easy wisecracking jeer that divides and destroys. It is hard – very hard – to have worked sincerely and wholeheartedly for a cause and to have lost. Most of all, it is hard to put aside personal prejudices. And yet we must put these things aside.
You call my candidate a horse thief, and I call yours a lunatic, and we both of us know it’s just till election day. It’s an American custom, like eating corn on the cob. And, afterwards, we settle down quite peaceably and agree we’ve got a pretty good country – until next election.
Dreaming men are haunted men.