I am an acme of things accomplished, and I an encloser of things to be.
The beauty of independence, departure, actions that rely on themselves.
Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
I do not doubt but the majest and beauty of the world are latent in any iota of the world; I do not doubt there is far more in trivialities, insects, vulgar persons, slaves, dwarfs, weeds, rejected refuse than I have supposed.
O Earth, that hast no voice, confide to me a voice! O harvest of my lands! O boundless summer growths! O lavish, brown, parturient earth! O infinite, teeming womb! A verse to seek, to see, to narrate thee.
The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them.
The best writing has no lace on its sleeves.
Now understand me well. It is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.
To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.
I have sometimes thought that the laws ought not to punish those actions of evil which are committed when the senses are steeped in intoxication.
I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise, Regardless of others, ever regardful of others, Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man, Stuffed with the stuff that is course, and stuffed with the stuff that is fine.
Dearest comrades, all is over and long gone, But love is not over.
This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage, snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.
I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.
All music is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments. It is not the violins and the cornets-it is not the oboe nor the beating drums, nor the score of the baritone singer singing his sweet romanza-nor that of the women's chorus; it is nearer and farther than they.
The fruition of beauty is no chance of hit or miss... it is inevitable as life.
He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.
I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years; it is middling well as far as it goes - but is that all?
The past, the future, majesty, love - if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.
I have no mockings or arguments; I witness and wait.
We also ascend dazzling and tremendous as the sun, We found our own O my soul in the calm and cool of the daybreak.
Ah little recks the laborer, How near his work is holding him to God, The loving Laborer through space and time
And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.
Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!
Strong and content I travel the open road.
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