Nation and Patriotism

O Caledonia! stern and wild,

There is no room in this country for hyphenated Americanism.

A man who is good enough to shed his blood for the country is good enough to be given a square deal afterwards.

We must be the great arsenal of democracy.

We face the arduous days that lie before us in the warm courage of national unity.

Died some, pro patria,

Happy the people whose annals are blank in history-books!

Let not England forget her precedence of teaching nations how to live.

Cromwell, our chief of men.

A good newspaper, I suppose, is a nation talking to itself.

Listen, my children, and you shall hear

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State!

With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in the right, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in: to bind up the nation’s wounds; to care for him who shall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves, and with all nations.

The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and heartstone 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.

And that will be England gone,

Take up the White Man’s burden—

Such boasting as the Gentiles use,

Ich bin ein Berliner.

And so, my fellow Americans: ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.

Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans—born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace.

Ireland is the old sow that eats her farrow.

Poor Parnell! he cried loudly. My dead king!

When the soul of a man is born in this country, there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets.

Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.