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Dearest comrades, all is over and long gone, But love is not over.

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
Comrades
Dearest
Comrade
Gone
Long
Love
Life

More quotes by Walt Whitman

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I refuse putting from me the best that I am.
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Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love But now I think there is no unreturn'd love—the pay is certain, one way or another (I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return'd Yet out of that, I have written these songs.)
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And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal of the other.
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We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
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Oh captain my captain
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And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, and can be none in the future, And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turned to beautiful results.
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The real war will never get in the books.
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I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touched from, The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
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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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What is commonest and cheapest and nearest and easiest is Me, Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns, Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me, Not asking the sky to come down to my goodwill, Scattering if freely forever.
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Everybody is writing, writing, writing - worst of all, writing poetry. It'd be better if the whole tribe of the scribblers - every damned one of us - were sent off somewhere with tool chests to do some honest work.
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Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard.
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The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long.
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Camerado! This is no book who touches this touches a man.
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I sing the body that is electric! I celebrate the Self yet to be unveiled!
Walt Whitman
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After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on - have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear - what remains? Nature remains.
Walt Whitman
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Joy, shipmate, joy! (Pleased to my soul at death I cry), Our life is closed, our life begins, The long, long anchorage we leave, The ship is clear at last, she leaps! She swiftly courses from the shore, Joy, shipmate, joy!
Walt Whitman
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The smallest sprout shows there is really no death. And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it.
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Where the earth is, we are.
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There will never be any more perfection than there is now.
Walt Whitman