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I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
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
Untranslatable
Roofs
Tamed
Barbaric
Roof
Bits
Sound
World
More quotes by Walt Whitman
Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.
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What has miserable, inefficient Mexico...to do with the great mission of peopling the New World with a noble race?
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When one reaches out to help another he touches the face of God.
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I do not doubt but the majest and beauty of the world are latent in any iota of the world I do not doubt there is far more in trivialities, insects, vulgar persons, slaves, dwarfs, weeds, rejected refuse than I have supposed.
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When the materials are all prepared and ready, the architects shall appear.
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Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.
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Great is Youth--equally great is Old Age--great are Day and Night. Great is Wealth--great is Poverty--great is Expression-great is Silence.
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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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The art of art... is simplicity.
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I exist as I am, that is enough.
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Camerado! This is no book who touches this touches a man.
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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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Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.
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You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
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I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy
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O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish what good amid these, O me, O life?
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I know I am deathless. No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before. I laugh at what you call dissolution, and I know the amplitude of time.
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Peace is always beautiful.
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Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate death.
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O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.
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