Mark the spirit of invention everywhere, thy rapid patents, Thy continual workshops, foundries, risen or rising, See, from their chimneys how the tal… - Walt Whitman

It is that something in the soul which says, — Rage on, whirl on, I tread master here and everywhere; master of the spasms of the sky and of the shatter of the sea, master of nature and passion and death, and of all terror and all pain.

The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

I act as the tongue of you,
... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.