All the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Seeing, hearing and feeling are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle. Every cubic inch of space is a miracle. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Oh, to be alive in such an age, when miracles are everywhere, and every inch of common air throbs a tremendous prophecy,… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
To me the sea is a continual miracle; The fishes that swim - the rocks - the motion of the waves -… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“And these things I see suddenly, what mean they? As if some miracle, some hand divine unseal’d my eyes, Shadowy vast shapes… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty, The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes, The gentle soft-born measureless light,… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
As for me, I know nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“I believe in the flesh and the appetites; Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, every inch of space is a miracle, every square yard… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Why who makes much of a miracle? As to me I know nothing else but miracles, whether they be animals feeding in… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“(I know, it's a poem but oh well). Why! who makes much of a miracle? As to me, I know of nothing… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“What shall I give? and which are my miracles? 2. Realism is mine--my miracles--Take freely, Take without end--I offer them to you… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“There is, in sanest hours, a consciousness, a thought that rises, independent, lifted out from all else, calm, like the stars, shining… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is. — Walt Whitman Copy Share
“Each of us inevitable, Each of us limitless—each of us with his or her right upon the earth, Each of us allow'd the eternal… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
I have sometimes thought that the laws ought not to punish those actions of evil which are committed when the senses are steeped in… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Oh while I live, to be the ruler of life, not a slave, to meet life as a powerful conqueror, and nothing exterior to… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Wisdom is not finally tested in the schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Strange, (is it not?) that battles, martyrs, blood, even assassination should so condense - perhaps only really lastingly condense - a Nationality. — Walt Whitman Copy Share
I think I could always live with animals. The more you're around people, the more you love animals. — Walt Whitman Copy Share
“I am the poet of the Body and I am the poet of the Soul, The pleasures of heaven are with me and the… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road. — Walt Whitman Copy Share
This is what you shall do: love the earth and sun, and animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Each of us inevitable; Each of us limitless-each of us with his or her right upon the earth. — Walt Whitman Copy Share
Silence? What can New York-noisy, roaring, rumbling, tumbling, bustling, story, turbulent New York-have to do with silence? Amid the universal clatter, the incessant din… — Walt Whitman Copy Share
