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Re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book,and dismiss whatever insults your own soul... It is also not consistent with the reality of the soul to admit that there is anything in the known universe more divine than men and women. The master knows that he is unspeakably great and that all are unspeakably great. There will soon be no more priests... They may wait awhile, perhaps a generation or two, dropping off by degrees. A superior breed shall take their place.A new order shall arise and they shall be the priests of man,and every man shall be his own priest.
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I will sleep no more but arise, You oceans that have been calm within me! how I feel you, fathomless, stirring, preparing unprecedented waves and storms.
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I was thinking the day most splendid, till I saw what the not-day exhibited;I was thinking this globe enough, till there sprang out so noiseless around me myriads of other globes.
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As soon as histories are properly told there is no more need of romances.
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In this broad earth of ours,Amid the measureless grossness and the slag,Enclosed and safe within its central heart,Nestles the seed perfection.
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Joy, shipmate, joy! Pleased to my soul at death I cry, Our life is closed, our life begins, The long, long anchorage we leave, The ship is clear at last, she leaps! She swiftly courses from the shore, Joy, shipmate, joy!
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Touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as I pass, Be not afraid of my body.
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With music strong I come, with my cornets and my drums, I play not marches for accepted victors only, I play marches for conquer'd and slain persons. Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won. I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.
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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 too often repeat that Democracy is a word the real gist of which still sleeps, quite unawakened, notwithstanding the resonance and the many angry tempests out of which its syllables have come, from pen or tongue. It is a great word, whose history, I suppose, remains unwritten because that history has yet to be enacted.
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The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss... it is inevitable as life.
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Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful stroke!
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To me, every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, every inch of space is a miracle, every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the same; every spear of grass-the frames, limbs, organs, of men and women, and all that concerns them, all these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.
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Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.
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Over all the sky-the sky! far, far out of reach, studded with the eternal stars.
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There's a man in the world who is never turned down, whatever he chances to stray; he gets the glad hand in the populous town, or out where the farmers makes hay; he's greeted with pleasure on deserts of sand, and deep in the aisles of the woods; wherever he goes there's a welcoming hand-he's the man who delivers the goods.
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All is procession; the universe is a procession with measured and beautiful motion.
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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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Re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body.
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The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here - that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
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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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A woman waits for me, she contains all, nothing lacking.
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Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.
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Are you the new person drawn toward me? To begin with, take warning - I am surely far different from what you suppose; Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal? Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover? Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy'd satisfaction? Do you think I am trusty and faithful? Do you see no further than this façade—this smooth and tolerant manner of me? Do you suppose yourself advancing on real ground toward a real heroic man? Have you no thought, O dreamer, that it may be all maya, illusion?