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From this hour, freedom! Going where I like, my own master.

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
Masters
Hours
Freedom
Going
Like
Master
Hour

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Over all the sky - the sky! Far, far out of reach, studded with eternal stars.
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To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.
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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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Those who love each other shall become invincible.
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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
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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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O America! Because you build for mankind I build for you.
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We convince by our presence.
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I and this mystery, here we stand.
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The truest and greatest Poetry, (while subtly and necessarily always rhythmic, and distinguishable easily enough) can never again, in the English language, be express'd in arbitrary and rhyming metre, any more than the greatest eloquence, or the truest power and passion.
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THIS dust was once the Man, / Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand, / Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age, / Was saved the Union of These States.
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I meet new Walt Whitmans everyday. There are a dozen of them afloat. I don't know which Walt Whitman I am.
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Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me.
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Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her shall I follow.
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Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.
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Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars! Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
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