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These are the days that must happen to you.
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
Life
Days
Happen
Happens
Must
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A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.
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Those who love each other shall become invincible.
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It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess.
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This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage, snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.
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My words itch at your ears till you understand them
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O the joy of my spirit--it is uncaged--it darts like lightning! It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time, I will have thousands of globes and all time.
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Most works are most beautiful without ornament.
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A word of the faith that never balks, Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely. It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.
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As soon as histories are properly told there is no more need of romances.
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Now I will do nothing but listen to accrue what I hear into this song. To let sounds contribute toward it. I hear the sound I love. The sound of the human voice. I hear all sounds running together.
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Long and long has the grass been growing, Long and long has the rain been falling, Long has the globe been rolling round.
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All truths wait in all things.
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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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Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
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The art of art, the glory of expression, is simplicity. Nothing is better than simplicity, and the sunlight of letters is simplicity. Nothing is better than simplicity-nothing can make up for excess, or for the lack of definiteness.
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From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines.
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