To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle,
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.

These lines come from Walt Whitman’s poem “Miracles,” first published in the 1860 edition of *Leaves of Grass*. In the late 1850s Whitman was deepening the expansive, democratic spirituality that characterizes his mature work—rejecting narrow, church-bound definitions of the miraculous in favor of wonder located in ordinary existence. “Miracles” is framed as a reply to someone who asks him what counts as a miracle; Whitman answers by listing everyday scenes and experiences (city streets, nature, people, the night sky) as inherently miraculous. The quoted lines occur near the poem’s close, summing up his stance that time, space, and perception themselves are sources of awe.

Whitman redefines “miracle” as a mode of attention rather than a rare supernatural interruption. By insisting that “every hour” and “every cubic inch of space” is miraculous, he collapses the boundary between sacred and secular: the sheer fact of existence—light and darkness, duration, and the vastness contained in the smallest measure—deserves reverence. The hyper-specific “cubic inch” intensifies the claim: wonder is not only in grand vistas but in the minute and immediate. The lines also reflect Whitman’s characteristic democratic impulse, implying that the miraculous is universally available to anyone willing to see, not reserved for saints, prophets, or extraordinary events.