Walt Whitman Quotes

Be not dishearten'd — Affection shall solve the problems of Freedom yet;
Those who love each other shall become invincible.

My respiration and inspiration.... the beating of my
heart....
the passing of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the
shore and
darkcolored sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,
The sound of the belched words of my voice....
words loosed to
the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses.... a few embraces.... a reaching
around of
arms,
The play of shine and shade on the trees as the
supple boughs
wag,
The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or
along the fields
and hillsides,
The feeling of health.... the full-noon trill.... the song
of me
rising from bed and meeting the sun.
Have you reckoned a thousand acres much? Have
you reckoned
the earth much?
Have you practiced so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of
poems?

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am,
Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary,
Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest,
Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next,
Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

And your very flesh shall be a great poem

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

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?

To be in any form, what is that?
(round and round we go, all of us, and ever come back thither,)
If nothing lay more develop'd the quahung in it's callous shell were enough.
Mine is no callous shell.
I have instant conductors all over me whether I pass or stop,
they seize every object and lead it harmlessly through me.
I merely stir, press, feel with my fingers, and I am happy, to touch my person to someone else's is about as much as I can stand.

I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion’s sake.

I have no mockings or arguments; I witness and wait.

Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much? have you reckon’d the earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,
You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, (there are millions of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books,
You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, / No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.

And to die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier. If no other in the world be aware I sit content, and if each and all be aware I sit content.

I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place.

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.

HOW solemn, as one by one,
As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty — as the men file by where I stand;
As the faces, the masks appear — as I glance at the faces, studying the masks;
(As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you are;)
How solemn the thought of my whispering soul, to each in the ranks, and to you;
I see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul;
O the bullet could never kill what you really are, dear friend,
Nor the bayonet stab what you really are:
... The soul! yourself I see, great as any, good as the best,
Waiting, secure and content, which the bullet could never kill,
Nor the bayonet stab, O friend!