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If you done it, it ain't bragging.

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
Conceited
Bragging
Done

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These are the days that must happen to you.
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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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There will never be any more perfection than there is now.
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I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.
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What beauty there is in words what a lurking curious charm in the sound some words.
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O America! Because you build for mankind I build for you.
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It is only the novice in political economy who thinks it is the duty of government to make its citizens happy - government has no such office.
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Now I see that there is no such thing as love unreturn'd. The pay is certain, one way or another.
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Simplicity is the glory of expression.
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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
Walt Whitman
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The beautiful uncut hair of graves.
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I have learned that to be with those I like is enough.
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If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
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Those who love each other shall become invincible.
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I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.
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A perfect writer would make words sing, dance, kiss, do the male and female act, bear children, weep, bleed, rage, stab, steal, fire cannon, steer ships, sack cities, charge with cavalry or infantry, or do anything that man or woman or the natural powers can do.
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All the past we leave behind We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world, Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march, Pioneers! O Pioneers!
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Are you the new person drawn toward me?
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Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate death.
Walt Whitman
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not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.
Walt Whitman