O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done.
Most works are most beautiful without ornament.
I act as the tongue of you, ... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.
The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections.
Lo, the most excellent sun so calm and haughty, The violet and purple morn with just-felt breezes, The gentle soft-born measureless light, The miracle spreading bathing all, the fulfill'd noon, The coming eve delicious, the welcome night and the stars, Over my cities shining all, enveloping man and land.
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
Old age: The estuary that enlarges and spreads itself grandly as it pours into the Great Sea.
Only themselves understand themselves and the like of themselves, As souls only understand souls.
The United States themselves are essentially the greatest poem.
Oh captain my captain
The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here - that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
I accept reality and dare not question it.
Note, to-day, an instructive, curious spectacle and conflict. Science, (twin, in its fields, of Democracy in its)—Science, testing absolutely all thoughts, all works, has already burst well upon the world—a sun, mounting, most illuminating, most glorious—surely never again to set. But against it, deeply entrench'd, holding possession, yet remains, (not only through the churches and schools, but by imaginative literature, and unregenerate poetry,) the fossil theology of the mythic-materialistic, superstitious, untaught and credulous, fable-loving, primitive ages of humanity.
I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.
A man is a great thing upon the earth and through eternity; but every jot of the greatness of man is unfolded out of woman.
Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.
To die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
The female that loves unrequited sleeps, And the male that loves unrequited sleeps, The head of the money-maker that plotted all day sleeps, And the enraged and treacherous dispositions, all, all sleep.
I tramp a perpetual journey.
I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.
My rule has been, so far as I could have any rule (I could have no cast-iron rule) - my rule has been, to write what I have to say the best way I can - then lay it aside - taking it up again after some time and reading it afresh - the mind new to it. If there's no jar in the new reading, well and good - that's sufficient for me.
What do you suppose will satisfy the soul, except to walk free and own no superior?
I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.
I am large, I contain multitudes
Follow AzQuotes on Facebook, Twitter and Google+. Every day we present the best quotes! Improve yourself, find your inspiration, share with friends
or simply: