O the old manhood of me, my noblest joy of all! My children and grand-children, my white hair and beard, My largeness, calmness, majesty, out of the long stretch of my life.

O ripen’d joy of womanhood! O happiness at last! I am more than eighty years of age, I am the most venerable mother, How clear is my mind⁠—how all people draw nigh to me! What attractions are these beyond any before? what bloom more than the bloom of youth? What beauty is this that descends upon me and rises out of me?

O the orator’s joys! To inflate the chest, to roll the thunder of the voice out from the ribs and throat, To make the people rage, weep, hate, desire, with yourself, To lead America⁠—to quell America with a great tongue.