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The greatest country, the richest country, is not that which has the most capitalists, monopolists, immense grabbings, vast fortunes, with its sad, sad soil of extreme, degrading, damning poverty, but the land in which there are the most homesteads, freeholds - where wealth does not show such contrasts high and low, where all men have enough - a modest living- and no man is made possessor beyond the sane and beautiful necessities.
Walt Whitman
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The President eats dirt and excrement for his daily meals, likes it and tries to force it on The States.
Walt Whitman
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The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
Walt Whitman
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Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.
Walt Whitman
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Not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.
Walt Whitman
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Sweet, sane, still Nakedness in Nature! — ah if poor, sick, prurient humanity in cities might really know you once more! Is not nakedness then indecent? No, not inherently. It is your thought, your sophistication, your fear, your respectability that is indecent. There come moods when these clothes of ours are not only too irksome to wear, but are themselves indecent. Perhaps indeed he or she to whom the free exhilarating ecstasy of nakedness in Nature has never been eligible (and how many thousands there are!) has not really known what purity is — nor what faith or art or health really is.
Walt Whitman
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There is no flaw or vacuum in the amount of the truth - but all is truth without exception; And henceforth I will go celebrate any thing I see or am, And sing and laugh and deny nothing.
Walt Whitman
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I keep thinking about you every few minutes all day.
Walt Whitman
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I inhale great draught of space...the east and west are mine...and the north and south are mine...I am grandeur than I thought...I did not know i held so much goodness.
Walt Whitman
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A man can be a hero in any profession.
Walt Whitman
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The habit of giving only enhances the desire to give.
Walt Whitman
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I am too not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Walt Whitman
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Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, if I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.
Walt Whitman
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As for me, I know nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, Or stand under the trees in the woods, Or talk by day with any one I love, Or sleep in bed at night with any one I love, Or watch honey bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon... Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, Or of stars shining so quiet and bright, Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring... What stranger miracles are there?
Walt Whitman
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The strongest and sweetest songs yet remain to be sung.
Walt Whitman
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The best writing has no lace on its sleeves.
Walt Whitman
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O magnet-South! O glistening perfumed South! My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!
Walt Whitman
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O lands! O all so dear to me - what you are, I become part of that, whatever it is.
Walt Whitman
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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.
Walt Whitman
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I know I am deathless We have thus far exhausted trillions of winters and summers, There are trillions ahead, and trillions ahead of them.
Walt Whitman
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When one reaches out to help another he touches the face of God.
Walt Whitman
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Once I passed through a populous city imprinting my brain for future use with its shows, architecture, customs, traditions, Yet now of all that city I remember only a woman I Casually met there who detained me for love of me, Day by day and night by night we were together – all else Has long been forgotten by me, I remember I say only that woman who passionately clung To me, Again we wander, we love, we separate again, Again she holds me by the hand, I must not go, I see her close beside me with silent lips sad and tremulous.
Walt Whitman
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Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
Walt Whitman
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You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side...The Bending forward and backward of the rowers...
Walt Whitman
