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O to be self-balanced for contingencies, to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.
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
Storm
Contingencies
Hunger
Contingency
Animals
Storms
Tree
Confront
Animal
Ridicule
Night
Balanced
Self
Accidents
Trees
Rebuff
More quotes by Walt Whitman
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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You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here, I believe much unseen is also here
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And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.
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Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
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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.
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There will never be any more perfection than there is now.
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The city sleeps and the country sleeps, the living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, the old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife and these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them, and such as it is to be of these more or less I am, and of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
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Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life
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A man can be a hero in any profession
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There is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth - but all is truth without exception And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am, And sing and laugh and deny nothing.
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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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I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
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All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
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Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.
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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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The earth does not argue, Is not pathetic, has no arrangements, Does not scream, haste, persuade, threaten, promise, Makes no discriminations, has no conceivable failures, Closes nothing, refuses nothing, shuts none out.
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Whoever you are, motion and reflection are especially for you, The divine ship sails the divine sea for you.
Walt Whitman
Manhattan streets with their powerful throbs, with beating drums as now, The endless and noisy chorus, the rustle and clank of muskets, (even the sight of the wounded,) Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus! Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me.
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I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
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Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
Walt Whitman