And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leaf… - Walt Whitman

I see the cliffs, glaciers, torrents, valleys of Switzerland - I mark the long winters and the isolation.

Crezco por igual en las regiones vastas y en las estrechas, crezco por igual entren los negros y los blancos.

The city sleeps and the country sleeps,
The living sleep for their time, the dead sleep for their time,
The old husband sleeps by his wife and the young husband
sleeps by his wife;
And these tend inward to me, and I tend outward to them,
And such as it is to be of these more or less I am,
And of these one and all I weave the song of myself.