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That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again and ever again, this soiled world.
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
Wash
Sisters
Death
Night
Hands
Ever
Soiled
World
Incessantly
Softly
More quotes by Walt Whitman
TO the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist much, obey little, Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved, Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever after-ward resumes its liberty.
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All is procession the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
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Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth ever afterward resumes its liberty.
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Great is the faith of the flush of knowledge and of the investigation of the depths of qualities and things.
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Out of the cradle endlessly rocking, Out of the mocking bird's throat, the musical shuttle, . . . . A reminiscence sing.
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I Think it is lost.....but nothing is ever lost nor can be lost . The body sluggish, aged, cold, the ember left from earlier fires shall duly flame again.
Walt Whitman
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done.
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Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love.
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I say to mankind, Be not curious about God. For I, who am curious about each, am not curious about God - I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least.
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The city sleeps and the country sleeps, the living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time, the old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband sleeps by his wife and these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them, and such as it is to be of these more or less I am, and of these one and all I weave the song of myself.
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Day by day and night by night we were together - all else has long been forgotten by me.
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Simplicity is the glory of expression.
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I am the man, I suffered, I was there.
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All truths wait in all things.
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I am not contain'd between my hat and boots.
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If you done it, it ain't bragging.
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The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case, He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blur with the manuscript.
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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 loveāthe 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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The President eats dirt and excrement for his daily meals, likes it and tries to force it on The States.
Walt Whitman
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.
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