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I was in the midst of it all - saw war where war is worst - not on the battlefields, no - in the hospitals ... there I mixed with it: and now I say God damn the wars - allw ars: God damn every war: God damn 'em! God damn 'em!

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
Hospitals
Midst
Wars
Damn
Saws
Worst
Battlefields
War
Mixed
Every
Ems

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All the things of the universe are perfect miracles, each as profound as any.
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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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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 will You, in all, Myself, with promise to never desert you, To which I sign my name.
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There is no week nor day nor hour when tyranny may not enter upon this country, if the people lose their roughness and spirit of defiance.
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The purpose of democracy - supplanting old belief in the necessary absoluteness of establish'd dynastic rulership, temporal, ecclesiastical, and scholastic, as furnishing the only security against chaos, crime, and ignorance - is, through many transmigrations, and amid endless ridicules, arguments, and ostensible failures
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Me imperturbe, standing at ease in nature.
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storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning, Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing, I tread day and night such roads.
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I am not contain'd between my hat and boots.
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If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
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Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
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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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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 have no mockings or arguments I witness and wait.
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Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.
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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.
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The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss... it is inevitable as life.
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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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All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza-nor that of the women's chorus it is nearer and farther than they.
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I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
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