The American experience is, finally, tragic. Not because our country is evil, but because it is a country. It is the vast conglomerate of separate groups with not only different opinions but also irreconcilable differences. Yet the differences must be reconciled, and however much effort is expended toward that goal, there will still be injustices, tragedy, crime, and error. The great poetry of America was born in the Middle Passage and persisted to become the music of our world. Our country was named for the cartographer Americus Vespucci. Amer in the Romance tongues means bitter. The word
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