I got bored so I wrote an updated version of this poem - appropriately dedicated to the president who identifies himself with Abraham Lincoln.
O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip has begun; The ship has weather’d another crack, the prize we sought is gone; The port in fear, the screams I hear, the people all enduring, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and drowning: But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops from lead, Where on the ship my Captain lies, Resting in his bed.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the tells; Rise up — for you the flag is hung — for you the bugle shrills; For you - flame and pitched forks — for you the shores a drowning; For you they call, the sullen masses, their faces turning flaccid; Here Captain! dear step-father! This pillow beneath your head; While in this nightmare on the deck, You're Still Resting in Your Bed.
My Captain refuses to answer, his lips are pale and blue; This impostor does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; The ship is sinking in the sound, its voyage closed and done; From fearful trip, the vicious ship, sinks down with object gone; Cry, O shores, and screams, the yells! But I, with revealing tread, Cling the deck; My Captain lied! He Abandoned Ship last Wed.
If you can justify killing one man, you can justify killing every man.
The Greatest Lie is the one never told, but assumed.
History isn't a measure of our successes, but the compilation of our mistakes.