I looked at the skyscrapers, the blue Hudson, and the friendly people walking by. In the ether within and behind this complex nation lies the golden soul of the improbable proposition that is America. And so I whispered to it, to the quiet soul of America, as though it just might hear me: "thank you".
Thank you for giving those poor people a home. Those immigrants beat impossible odds and survived unbearable hardships. This triumph of the human spirit was only possible because America opened its arms to them and offered freely a new home where, from of the black pits of despair, their futures shone bright.
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