I asked him to retain our old shingle, on its rusty hinges.
“If I live, I’ll be coming back, and then we’ll go on as if nothing had ever happened.”
At the bottom of the stairs, we shook hands.
In keeping with my philosophy I felt certain that I would never return to Springfield.
October 21, 1863
White House
Library
The unfinished dome on the White House continues to trouble me. The incompletion has become a symbol. I peer through its maw and it seems a war wound. When will it be finished? And when it has been completed will the union of the North and South begin? A carpenter tips his hat: “Good morning, Mr. President.” Throughout the morning I have heard hammers and saws. Patience, I tell myself. A wise man invented patience. The emancipation of man will require great patience.
It is pleasant writing in the library. I will return again.