O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up — for you the flag is flung — for you the bugle trills… - Walt Whitman

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.

Human bodies are words, myriads of words; In the best poems reappears the body, man's or woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay;

It is no small matter, this round and delicious globe, moving so exactly in its orbit for ever and ever, without one jolt, or the untruth of a single second; I do not think it was made in six days, nor in ten thousand years, nor ten billions of years, Nor planned and built one thing after another, as an architect plans and builds a house. I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or any one else.