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After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on - have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear - what remains? Nature remains.
Walt Whitman
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Walt Whitman
Age: 72 †
Born: 1819
Born: May 31
Died: 1892
Died: March 26
Editor
Essayist
Journalist
Novelist
Nurse
Poet
Writer
West Hills
New York
Walter Whitman
Nature
Simplicity
Finally
Wear
None
Remains
Conviviality
Politics
Permanently
Business
Satisfy
Found
Exhausted
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not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.
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Most works are most beautiful without ornament.
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Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
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I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!
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By writing at the instant, the very heartbeat of life is caught.
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Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?
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All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
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When the materials are all prepared and ready, the architects shall appear.
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I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of a man.
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Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.
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The powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.
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Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
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I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.
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Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road. Healthy, free, the world before me. The long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose. Henceforth, I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune. Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.
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Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful stroke!
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Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
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O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.
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I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.
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The road to wisdom is paved with excess. The mark of a true writer is their ability to mystify the familiar and familiarize the strange.
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