To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same;
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women,
and all that concerns them,
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass (1856)