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Oh, to be alive in such an age, when miracles are everywhere, and every inch of common air throbs a tremendous prophecy, of greater marvels yet to be.

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
Every
Tremendous
Everywhere
Miracle
Throbs
Air
Marvels
Alive
Inch
Greater
Prophecy
Age
Inches
Common
Miracles

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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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The whole purpose of the universe is unerringly aimed at one thing - you.
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I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years it is middling well as far as it goes - but is that all?
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I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.
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All beauty comes from beautiful blood and a beautiful brain.
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I love doctors and hate their medicine.
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And as to me, I know nothing else but miracles
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I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!
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I Think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost . The body sluggish, aged, cold, the ember left from earlier fires shall duly flame again.
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Most works are most beautiful without ornament.
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Do you see O my brothers and sisters? It is not chaos or death, it is form, union, plan, it is eternal life, it is happiness.
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And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
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O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.
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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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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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Simplicity is the glory of expression.
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O Earth, that hast no voice, confide to me a voice! O harvest of my lands! O boundless summer growths! O lavish, brown, parturient earth! O infinite, teeming womb! A verse to seek, to see, to narrate thee.
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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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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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