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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
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
Earth
Springs
Foot
Presses
Press
Affection
Spring
Hundred
Feet
Affections
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I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law Will you give me yourself?
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Lo! body and soul!--this land! Mighty Manhattan, with spires, and The sparkling and hurrying tides, and the ships The varied and ample land,--the South And the North in the light--Ohio's shores, and flashing Missouri, And ever the far-spreading prairies, covered with grass and corn.
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Future years will never know the seething hell and the black infernal background, the countless minor scenes and interiors of the secession war and it is best they should not. The real war will never get in the books.
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Something there is more immortal even than the stars.
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Be not ashamed women, ... You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.
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A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
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It is a beautiful truth that all men contain something of the artist in them. And perhaps it is the case that the greatest artists live and die, the world and themselves alike ignorant what they possess.
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The past, the future, majesty, love - if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.
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O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you, you express me better than I can express myself.
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Youth, large, lusty, loving -- Youth, full of grace, force, fascination. Do you know that Old Age may come after you with equal grace, force, fascination?
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Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
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Where the earth is, we are.
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Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.
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And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
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Every hour of every day is an unspeakably perfect miracle.
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