There is that indescribable freshness and unconsciousness about an illiterate person that humbles and mocks the power of the noblest expressive genius.
The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.
Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
The great city is that which has the greatest man or woman: if it be a few ragged huts, it is still the greatest city in the whole world.
The whole theory of the universe is directed unerringly to one single individual.
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots.
Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
We can hear others, and we can travel with them without moving, and we can imagine them, and we are all connected one to the other by a crazy root system, like so many leaves of grass. But the game makes me wonder wheter we can really ever fully become another.
I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless, And filter and fibre your blood. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.
I have never really thought of him as a person, either.... A guy whose strings were broken, who didn’t feel the root of his leaves of grass connected to the field, a guy who was cracked. Like me.
I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, old age flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.
Are you the new person drawn toward me?
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's sake.
O amazement of things-even the least particle!
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred.
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