Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howl… - Walt Whitman

am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all phases.

After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, love, and so on — have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear — what remains? Nature remains; to bring out from their torpid recesses, the affinities of a man or woman with the open air, the trees, fields, the changes of seasons — the sun by day and the stars of heaven by night.

None has begun to think how divine he himself is and how certain the future is.

is that the President? Then I will sleep awhile yet, for I see that these States sleep,