Quote

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.

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
Grows
Ecstasy
Like
Dies
Atoms
Upon
Drunk
Place
Lays
Hands
Glory
Young
Pride
Feels
Full
Bowels
Never
Hand
Atom

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Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.
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I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn'd over upon me, And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.
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I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
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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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Simplicity is the glory of expression.
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The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him - it cannot fail
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Most works are most beautiful without ornament.
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A great city is that which has the greatest men and women.
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Everybody is writing, writing, writing - worst of all, writing poetry. It'd be better if the whole tribe of the scribblers - every damned one of us - were sent off somewhere with tool chests to do some honest work.
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I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
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I pass death with the dying and birth with the new-wash'd babe, and am not contained between my hat and my boots.
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I sing the body electric.
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I sing the body that is electric! I celebrate the Self yet to be unveiled!
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Silence? What can New York-noisy, roaring, rumbling, tumbling, bustling, story, turbulent New York-have to do with silence? Amid the universal clatter, the incessant din of business, the all swallowing vortex of the great money whirlpool-who has any, even distant, idea of the profound repose......of silence?
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Now I see that there is no such thing as love unreturn'd. The pay is certain, one way or another.
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Keep your face always toward the sunshine everything could be worse but isn't and so we are justified in being grateful - and shadows everything could be better but isn't and so it is easy to be bitter 'unless you decide to look on the bright side will fall behind you.
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I henceforth tread the world, chaste, temperate, an early riser, a steady grower.
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Without enough wilderness America will change. Democracy, with its myriad personalities and increasing sophistication, must be fibred and vitalized by regular contact with outdoor growths - animals, trees, sun warmth and free skies - or it will dwindle and pale.
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To behold the day-break! The little light fades the immense and diaphanous shadows, The air tastes good to my palate.
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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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