I just completed my second read of John Adams by David McCullough. I am struck by Adams’ commitment to public service and, not surprisingly, the coincident deaths on July 4, 1826, of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson.
This read, however, a sentiment expressed by Abigail Adams most resonates. Writing about Jefferson, of whom she was once very fond, she wrote there was “a little corner of my heart where once he sat . . . . [and] from whence I find it hard wholly to discard him.”1
How many sit now in the corners of my heart;
in what number do I reside?
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