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But the people are ungrammatical, untidy, and their sins gaunt and ill-bred.

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
Bred
Sins
Ill
Sin
People
Gaunt
Untidy

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There is that indescribable freshness and unconsciousness about an illiterate person that humbles and mocks the power of the noblest expressive genius.
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Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.
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A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.
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I am not contain'd between my hat and boots.
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Man is about the same, in the main, whether with despotism, or whether with freedom.
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The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long.
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Long have you timidly waded Holding a plank by the shore, Now I will you to be a bold swimmer, To jump off in the midst of the sea, Rise again, nod to me, shout, And laughingly dash with your hair.
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I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.
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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.
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Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
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I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long.
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Oh captain my captain
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In nothing is there more evolution than the American mind.
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Pointing to another world will never stop vice among us shedding light over this world can alone help us.
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O to speed where there is space enough and air enough at last!
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And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
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O to be self-balanced for contingencies, to confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs, as the trees and animals do.
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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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Love, that is day and night - love, that is sun and moon and stars, Love, that is crimson, sumptuous, sick with perfume, no other words but words of love, no other thought but love.
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