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Always the path of American destiny has been into the unknown. Always there arose enough reserves of strength, balances of sanity, portions of wisdom to carry the nation through to a fresh start with ever-renewing vitality.

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I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.

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If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.

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A British pressing with a compilation of the best stuff really, I mean actually not only that but, these were all kind of semi hits for the people on it in America.

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I never wore a stich of make-up until I got to America. I lived in a world of fantasy it was made up of imaginary friends and make believe lovers. I was also teased a lot for being different because I was shy, solitary, distant and melancholic.

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It’s just the way it is. The sky is blue, the sun is bright, and Aspen endlessly loves America. It’s how the world was designed to be.

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America Singer, you get back here." He ran in front of me, wrapping an arm around my waist as we stood, chest to chest. "Tell me," he whispered. I pinched my lips together. "Fine, then I shall have to rely on other means of communication." Without any warning, he kissed me.

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Just head over to the risers, Lady America," she said. "You may sit anywhere you like. So you know, most of the girls have already claimed the front row." She looked sorry for me, as if she were delivering bad news. "Oh, thank you," I said, and went happily to take a seat in the back.

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America, I don’t think you can change history." All the same, his expression looked hopeful. "Sure we can. Besides, who’d ever know about it but you and me?

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I love you, America Singer. As long as I live, I’ll love you." There was some deep emotion in his voice, and it caught me off guard. "I love you, Aspen. You’ll always be my prince.

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He stood and went to read my pin as I approached. “America, is it?” he said, a smile playing on his lips. “Yes, it is. And I know I’ve heard your name before, but could you remind me?

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On my visits to America, I discovered that the old Marxist dictum, "From each according to his abilities, to each according to his needs," was probably more in force in America-that holy of holies of capitalism-than in any other country in the world.

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From an early age I was aware of what America meant, and how the Marines at Camp Pendleton were ready to defend us at a moment’s notice. I also remember what fabulous bodies those troops had.

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The first time I was asked whether women can "have it all" was at the Miss America pageant. I said no. I didn’t mean that women shouldn’t fully pursue their dreams, only that we need to be honest with ourselves.

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I might even pursue a career in politics. If I do, I will have had great practice dealing with the avalanche of daily criticism from working at Fox News and being a former Miss America. I’m ready for anything!

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In the Miss America system talent is worth 50 percent of a contestant’s points so my mom encouraged me to give it a try. And once I decided to do it, like anything else, I gave it 110 percent.

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Now the 21st century approaches and with it the inevitability of change. We must wonder if the American people will find renewal and rejuvenation within themselves, will discover again their capacity for innovation and adaptation. If not, alas, the nation’s future will be shaped by sightless forces of history over which Americans will have no control.

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America was founded by puritans and like it or not the anti-pleasure dogma of those buckled-shoed killjoys still pervades our collective unconscious like an I-max shot of Dennis Franz’s naked hairy cop ass. Hence, anything enjoyable is automatically forbidden and bad and in our panic to avoid it at all cost we become obsessed with it… like dressing up in a pink teddy and a pair of ugboots and repeatedly screaming the word ‘VERBOTEN!’ into a conk shell balanced on the back on a miniature pony… Oh, I see.. That would just be me.