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A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing is lacking, Yet all were lacking if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the right man were lacking.

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
Men
Contains
Lacking
Sexy
Sex
Waiting
Woman
Moisture
Nothing
Waits
Right
Sensual

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And I will show that there is no imperfection in the present, and can be none in the future, And I will show that whatever happens to anybody it may be turned to beautiful results.
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People who serve you without love get even behind your back.
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There will never be any more perfection than there is now.
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The dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book.
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Give me solitude, give me Nature, give me again O Nature your primal sanities!
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Surely whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her shall I follow.
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Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
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Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems
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My call is the call of battle- I nourish active rebellion/ He going with me must go well armed.
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I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with original energy
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O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, you express me better than I can express myself.
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There was a child went forth everyday, And the first object he looked upon and received with wonder or pity or dread, that object he became, And that object became part of him for the day or a certain part of the day... or for many years or stretching cycles of years.
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The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.
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In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed of perfection.
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Press close, bare-bosomed Night! Press close, magnetic, nourishing Night! Night of south winds! Night of the large, few stars! Still, nodding Night! Mad, naked, Summer Night!
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Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
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