Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature! — ah if poor, sick, prurient humanity in cities might really know you once more! Is… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Sure as the most certain sure .... plumb in the uprights, well entreated, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate,… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.... And as to… — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. — Walt Whitman Copy Share Image
All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it… — 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
