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Freedom - to walk free and own no superior.

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
Freedom
Hiking
Free
Superior
Superiors
Wander
Walking
Walk
Sauntering
Journey
Trekking
Walks
Strolling

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The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
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People who serve you without love get even behind your back.
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I refuse putting from me the best that I am.
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What beauty there is in words what a lurking curious charm in the sound some words.
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Old age: The estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours into the Great Sea.
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These are the days that must happen to you.
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I loafe and invite my soul.
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All is procession the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
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O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.
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Women sit or move to and fro, some old, some young, / The young are beautiful--but the old are more beautiful than the young.
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Human bodies are words, myriads of words, (In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay, Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or the need of shame.)
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Day full-blown and splendid-day of the immense sun, action, ambition, laughter, The Night follows close with millions of suns, and sleep and restoring darkness.
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A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
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I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
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Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars! Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
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I swear the earth shall surely be complete to him or her who shall be complete, The earth remains jagged and broken only to him or her who remains jagged and broken.
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All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
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I think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost .
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O America! Because you build for mankind I build for you.
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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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