Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. - Walt Whitman

Camerado! This is no book;
Who touches this, touches a man.

The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night,
Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation.

I will leave all and come and make the hymns of you, None has understood you, but I understand you, None has done justice to you, you have not done justice to yourself, None but has found you imperfect, I only find no imperfection in you, None but would subordinate you, I only am he who will never consent to subordinate you, I only am he who places over you no master, owner, better, God, beyond what waits intrinsically in yourself.