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The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.

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
Drift
Reading
Words
Everything
Book
Nothing
Writing

More quotes by Walt Whitman

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My call is the call of battle- I nourish active rebellion/ He going with me must go well armed.
Walt Whitman
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Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!
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Lo! body and soul!--this land! Mighty Manhattan, with spires, and The sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships The varied and ample land,--the South And the North in the light--Ohio's shores, and flashing Missouri, And ever the far-spreading prairies, covered with grass and corn.
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There is no place like it, no place with an atom of its glory, pride, and exultancy. It lays its hand upon a man's bowels he grows drunk with ecstasy he grows young and full of glory, he feels that he can never die.
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O to be self-balanced for contingencies, to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.
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Whoever degrades another degrades me.
Walt Whitman
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I think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost .
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The whole purpose of the universe is unerringly aimed at one thing - you.
Walt Whitman
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Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
Walt Whitman
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The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss... it is inevitable as life.
Walt Whitman
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And as to me, I know nothing else but miracles
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I love doctors and hate their medicine.
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In all people I see myself - none more, and not one a barleycorn less And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.
Walt Whitman
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The mother condemned for a witch and burnt with dry wood, and her children gazing on The hounded slave that flags in the race and leans by the fence, blowing and covered with sweat, The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, The murderous buckshot and the bullets, All these I feel or am.
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Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.
Walt Whitman
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Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
Walt Whitman
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Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
Walt Whitman
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Praised be the fathomless universe, for life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious.
Walt Whitman
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The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
Walt Whitman
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Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her shall I follow.
Walt Whitman