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I love doctors and hate their medicine.

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
Medicine
Doctors
Hate
Love

More quotes by Walt Whitman

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Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs !
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I tramp a perpetual journey.
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I loafe and invite my soul.
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What beauty there is in words what a lurking curious charm in the sound some words.
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What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
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There is no place like it, no place with an atom of its glory, pride, and exultancy. It lays its hand upon a man's bowels he grows drunk with ecstasy he grows young and full of glory, he feels that he can never die.
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Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
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THIS dust was once the Man, / Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand, / Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age, / Was saved the Union of These States.
Walt Whitman
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Where the earth is, we are.
Walt Whitman
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The poet judges not as a judge judges but as the sun falling around a helpless thing.
Walt Whitman
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Forsake all inhibitions, Pursue thy dreams.
Walt Whitman
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The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.
Walt Whitman
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Charity and personal force are the only investments worth anything.
Walt Whitman
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Resist much, obey little.
Walt Whitman
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Liberty is to be subserved, whatever occurs.
Walt Whitman
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O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done, / The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won
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When one reaches out to help another he touches the face of God.
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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.
Walt Whitman
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How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed!
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