“Ah the dead to me mar not, they fit well in Nature, They fit very well in the landscape under the trees and grass, And along the edge of the sky in the horizon's far margin.” — 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
