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I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's-self is.

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
Nothing
Self
Greater
Body
Soul

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Charity and personal force are the only investments worth anything.
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Day by day and night by night we were together - all else has long been forgotten by me.
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Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.
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Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
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The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing.
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Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!
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Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul.
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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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There's no doubt that I've deserved my enemies, but I don't think I've deserved my friends.
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Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now, The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded,) Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
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O magnet-South! O glistening perfumed South! My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!
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Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems
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The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here - that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
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I love doctors and hate their medicine.
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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.
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Produce great men, the rest follows.
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And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
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Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.
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