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I will write the evangel-poem of comrades and of love.

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
Write
Writing
Love
Comrades
Comrade
Poem
Friendship

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I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear.
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Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
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If any thing is sacred, the human body is sacred.
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I have no mockings or arguments I witness and wait.
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Behold I do not give lectures or a little charity, When I give I give myself.
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Day by day and night by night we were together - all else has long been forgotten by me.
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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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Resist much, obey little.
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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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To speak in literature with the perfect rectitude and insouciance of the movements of animals and the unimpeachable of the sentiment of trees in the woods and grass by the roadside is the flawless triumph of art.
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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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You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side...The Bending forward and backward of the rowers...
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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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We convince by our presence.
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The best writing has no lace on its sleeves.
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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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I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
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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 will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.
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All truths wait in all things, They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it, They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon, The insignificant is as big to me as any, (What is less or more than a touch).
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