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I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots.

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
Wash
Boots
Hats
Pass
Birth
Dying
Death
Babe
Contained

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I and this mystery, here we stand.
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For all these new and evolutionary facts, meanings, purposes, new poetic messages, new forms and expressions, are inevitable.
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Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul.
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All music is is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments.
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I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least.
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The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first Be not discouraged - keep on - there are divine things, well envelop'd I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
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Here is not merely a nation but a teeming nation of nations.
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To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts, to feed the remainder of life with one hour of fullness and freedom - one brief hour of madness and joy.
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Battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
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I am larger, better than I thought I did not know I held so much goodness.
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I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
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I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
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The work for giants...to serve well the guns!
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My little notebooks were beginnings - they were the ground into which I dropped the seed... I would work in this way when I was out in the crowds, then put the stuff together at home.
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this is thy hour o soul, thy free flight into the wordless, away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best, night, sleep, death and the stars.
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