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To me the sea is a continual miracle The fishes that swim - the rocks - the motion of the waves - the ships, with men in them, what stranger miracles are there?
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
Fishes
Continual
Stranger
Marine
Wave
Waves
Miracle
Miracles
Sea
Motion
Ocean
Swim
Rocks
Ships
Men
Beach
More quotes by Walt Whitman
Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
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I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.
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For all these new and evolutionary facts, meanings, purposes, new poetic messages, new forms and expressions, are inevitable.
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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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There was a child went forth every day, And the first object he looked upon, that object he became.
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I hate commas in the wrong places.
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O YOU whom I often and silently come where you are, that I may be with you As I walk by your side, or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me.
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I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.
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Let that which stood in front go behind, let that which was behind advance to the front, let bigots, fools, unclean persons, offer new propositions, let the old propositions be postponed.
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I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don't believe I deserved my friends.
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Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.
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If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
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I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.
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O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.
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Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road, healthy, free, the world before me.
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There's a man in the world who is never turned down, whatever he chances to stray he gets the glad hand in the populous town, or out where the farmers makes hay he's greeted with pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the woods wherever he goes there's a welcoming hand-he's the man who delivers the goods.
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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.
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The beauty of independence, departure, actions that rely on themselves.
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I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.
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this is thy hour o soul, thy free flight into the wordless, away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best, night, sleep, death and the stars.
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