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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.

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
Worst
Tribes
Everybody
Chests
Better
Tool
Whole
Sent
Writing
Somewhere
Work
Tools
Scribblers
Every
Poetry
Tribe
Honest
Damned

More quotes by Walt Whitman

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I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or any one else.
Walt Whitman
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Let your soul stand cool and composed before a million universes.
Walt Whitman
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Our leading men are not of much account and never have been, but the average of the people is immense, beyond all history. Sometimes I think in all departments, literature and art included, that will be the way our superiority will exhibit itself. We will not have great individuals or great leaders, but a great average bulk, unprecedentedly great.
Walt Whitman
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When I undertake to tell the best, I find I cannot. My tongue is ineffectual on its pivots, My breath will not be obedient to its organs, I become a dumb man.
Walt Whitman
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From this hour, freedom! Going where I like, my own master.
Walt Whitman
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Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.
Walt Whitman
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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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I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.
Walt Whitman
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Love-buds, put before you and within you, whoever you are, Buds to be unfolded on the old terms If you bring the warmth of the sun to them, they will open, and bring form, color, perfume, to you If you become the aliment and the wet, they will become flowers, fruits, tall blanches and trees.
Walt Whitman
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A Song of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets A song of farms - a song of the soil of fields. A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers handle the pitch-fork A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk'd maize.
Walt Whitman
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This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.
Walt Whitman
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I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
Walt Whitman
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Oh, to be alive in such an age, when miracles are everywhere, and every inch of common air throbs a tremendous prophecy, of greater marvels yet to be.
Walt Whitman
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Man is about the same, in the main, whether with despotism, or whether with freedom.
Walt Whitman
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O amazement of things-even the least particle!
Walt Whitman
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I accept reality and dare not question it.
Walt Whitman
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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
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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 love—the 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.)
Walt Whitman
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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.
Walt Whitman
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I and this mystery, here we stand.
Walt Whitman