Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.
I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots.
Are you the new person drawn toward me?
Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.
I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
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 do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
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.
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.
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.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs !
What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
I can almost imagine a happiness without her, the ability to let her go, to feel our roots are connected even if I never see that leaf of grass again.'
I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon, that object he became.
The future is no more uncertain than the present.
Nothing endures but personal qualities.
A great city is that which has the greatest men and women.
O amazement of things-even the least particle!
I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's sake.
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.
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