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Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.
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
Deeds
War
Lost
Beautiful
Must
Time
Carnage
Utterly
More quotes by Walt Whitman
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
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My words itch at your ears till you understand them
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Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere - on water and land.
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Long enough have you dream'd contemptible dreams, Now I wash the gum from your eyes, You must habit yourself to the dazzle of the light and of every moment of your life
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I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain'd, I stand and look at them long and long.
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In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.
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Every moment of light and dark is a miracle.
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The eager and often inconsiderate appeals of reformers and revolutionists are indispensable to counterbalance the inertia and fossilism marking so large a part of human institutions.
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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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Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?
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All truths wait in all things,/They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it
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I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.
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That's beautiful: the hurrah game! well — it's our game: that's the chief fact in connection with it: America's game: has the snap, go fling, of the American atmosphere — belongs as much to our institutions, fits into them as significantly, as our constitutions, laws: is just as important in the sum total of our historic life.
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The proof of a poet is that his country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it.
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I am large, I contain multitudes
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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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I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware, and by the far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait.
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O the joy of my spirit - it is uncaged - it darts like lightning!
Walt Whitman
Are you the new person drawn toward me?
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I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
Walt Whitman