A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Song of Myself is a new kind of poem , which is shocked, puzzled, amused, amazed all the average readers, but it… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange, But each man and each… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less, And the good or bad I say of… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“ He is a type of our best — our rarest. Electrical, I was going to say, beyond anyone, perhaps, ever was:… — 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 Image
“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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
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 Image
Strange, (is it not?) that battles, martyrs, blood, even assassination should so condense - perhaps only really lastingly condense - a Nationality. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
I think I could always live with animals. The more you're around people, the more you love animals. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
“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 Image
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 Image
