Challenge: Kentucky dirt floor, mother dies at nine, father says “get a job,” books borrowed from neighbors, no school, no light but fireflies.
Accountable: every lost election, every dead child, every battlefield—he said “this is on me,” then got up. Read law by candle, wrote speeches in pencil.
Assimilated: America wasn’t a flag to him—it was a promise. He stitched it together with words, with rail-splitter hands, with a voice that cracked.
Allegiance: gave his life for “government of the people, by the people, for the people.” Didn’t die for a party—died for the idea.
Permanent: resolve wasn’t a speech, it was a walk.
Prudent: strategy like chess—slow, sure, no rush.
Pragmatic: Emancipation? When it hurts the South. Union first? Always.
Lemons: poverty, grief, war.
What he made: a nation that didn’t break.
Read: A. Lincoln by Ronald C. White—quiet, deep, true.
Grateful Immigrant 