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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.
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
Eyes
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Jour
Eye
Tobacco
Gaunt
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More quotes by Walt Whitman
My spirit has pass'd in compassion and determination around the whole earth. I have look'd for equals and lovers an found them ready for me in all lands, I think some divine rapport has equalized me with them
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Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.
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To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.
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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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And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.
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Whoever degrades another degrades me.
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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.
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If you done it, it ain't bragging.
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I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.
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What stays with you latest and deepest? of curious panics, of hard-fought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest remains?
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I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
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I sing the body electric.
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But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?
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Do anything, but let it produce joy.
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I have heard what the talkers were talking, the talk of the beginning and the end, But I do not talk of the beginning or the end.
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Now, dearest comrade, lift me to your face, We must separate awhileHere! take from my lips this kiss. Whoever you are, I give it especially to you So long!And I hope we shall meet again.
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I do not seek good fortune - I am good fortune!
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Resist much, obey little.
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Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
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My call is the call of battle- I nourish active rebellion/ He going with me must go well armed.
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