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And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
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
Hug
Mortality
Idle
Bitter
Death
Trying
Alarm
Alarms
More quotes by Walt Whitman
All truths wait in all things.
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The most affluent man is he that confronts all the shows he sees by equivalents out of the stronger wealth of himself.
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I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touched from, The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
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I love doctors and hate their medicine.
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Speech is the twin of my vision, it is unequal to measure itself, it provokes me forever, it says sarcastically, Walt you contain enough, why don't you let it out then?
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Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing, Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms, Strong and content I travel the open road.
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I loafe and invite my soul.
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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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Have you not learned the most in your life from those with whom you disagreed - those who saw it differently from you?
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Let that which stood in front go behind, let that which was behind advance to the front, let bigots, fools, unclean persons, offer new propositions, let the old propositions be postponed.
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What beauty there is in words what a lurking curious charm in the sound some words.
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The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
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I like the scientific spirit-the holding off, the being sure but not too sure, the willingness to surrender ideas when the evidence is against them: this is ultimately fine-it always keeps the way beyond open.
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Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.
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I cannot be awake for nothing looks to me as it did before, Or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep.
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Viewed freely, the English language is the accretion and growth of every dialect, race, and range of time, and is both the free and compacted composition of all.
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As soon as histories are properly told there is no more need of romances.
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I say you shall yet find the friend you were looking for.
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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.
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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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