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What a devil art thou, Poverty! How many desires - how many aspirations after goodness and truth - how many noble thoughts, loving wishes toward our fellows, beautiful imaginings thou hast crushed under thy heel, without remorse or pause!

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
Without
Toward
Wishes
Hast
Many
Poverty
Desires
Pause
Thoughts
Fellows
Remorse
Wish
Thou
Aspirations
Desire
Noble
Pauses
Art
Loving
Crushed
Beautiful
Goodness
Aspiration
Imaginings
Truth
Devil
Heels
Heel

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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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I hate commas in the wrong places.
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Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.
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I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
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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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I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long.
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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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All beauty comes from beautiful blood and a beautiful brain.
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The whole purpose of the universe is unerringly aimed at one thing - you.
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Keep your face always toward the sunshine everything could be worse but isn't and so we are justified in being grateful - and shadows everything could be better but isn't and so it is easy to be bitter 'unless you decide to look on the bright side will fall behind you.
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Oh captain my captain
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When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom'd / And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the night, / I mourn'd, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.
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I swear I think there is nothing but immortality!
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Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth ever afterward resumes its liberty.
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The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first Be not discouraged - keep on - there are divine things, well envelop'd I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
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Come lovely and soothing death, Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving, In the day, in the night, to all, to each, Sooner or later, delicate death.
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My words itch at your ears till you understand them
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The female that loves unrequited sleeps, And the male that loves unrequited sleeps, The head of the money-maker that plotted all day sleeps, And the enraged and treacherous dispositions, all, all sleep.
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All is procession the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
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I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
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