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I find letters from God dropt in the street, and every one is sign'd by God's name.
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
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West Hills
New York
Walter Whitman
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Letters
Every
God
Street
Streets
More quotes by Walt Whitman
I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.
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Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs !
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And there is no trade or employment but the young man following it may become a hero.
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Future years will never know the seething hell and the black infernal background, the countless minor scenes and interiors of the secession war and it is best they should not. The real war will never get in the books.
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Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.
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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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That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again and ever again, this soiled world.
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What is commonest and cheapest and nearest and easiest is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my goodwill, Scattering if freely forever.
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I hate commas in the wrong places.
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So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.
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Every hour of every day is an unspeakably perfect miracle.
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There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon, that object he became.
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Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love But now I think there is no unreturn'd loveāthe pay is certain, one way or another (I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return'd Yet out of that, I have written these songs.)
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Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers where I can walk undisturbed.
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Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
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Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth ever afterward resumes its liberty.
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From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines. Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute. Listening to others, and considering well what they say. Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating. Gently but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.
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Now understand me well. It is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.
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Oh captain my captain
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I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.
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