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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.
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
Rounds
Lovely
Later
Serenely
Death
Soothing
Night
Arriving
Come
Sooner
World
Delicate
Round
More quotes by Walt Whitman
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 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.
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Henceforth I ask not good fortune. I myself am good fortune.
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Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.
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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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Books are to be called for and supplied on the assumption that the process of reading is not a half-sleep, but in the highest sense an exercise, a gymnastic struggle that the reader is to do something for himself.
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After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on - have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear - what remains? Nature remains.
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And if the body were not the soul, what is the soul?
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A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.
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this is thy hour o soul, thy free flight into the wordless, away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done, thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the themes thou lovest best, night, sleep, death and the stars.
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I sing the body that is electric! I celebrate the Self yet to be unveiled!
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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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Through the ample open door of the peaceful country barn, A sun-lit pasture field, with cattle and horses feeding And haze, and vista, and the far horizon, fading away.
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Sure as the most certain sure, plumb in the uprights, well entretied, braced in the beams, Stout as a horse, affectionate, haughty, electrical, I and this mystery here we stand.
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Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.
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Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged. Missing me one place, search another. I stop somewhere waiting for you.
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You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
Walt Whitman
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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My words itch at your ears till you understand them
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I dance with the dancers.
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