When he whom I love travels with me or sits a long while holding me by the hand, … Then I am charged with untold and untellable wisdom, I am silent, I require nothing further, I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I can bear it.
I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware, and by the far the largest to me, and that is myself, And whether I come to my own today or in ten thousand or ten million years, I can cheerfully take it now, or with equal cheerfulness, I can wait.
I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game. It will take our people out-of-doors, fill them with oxygen, give them a larger physical stoicism. Tend to relieve us from being a nervous, dyspeptic set. Repair these losses, and be a blessing to us.
I accept reality and dare not question it.
Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
Americans should know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls.
From this hour, freedom! Going where I like, my own master.
And I will show of male and female that either is but the equal of the other.
Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.
Failing to fetch me at first, keep encouraged. Missing me one place, search another. I stop somewhere waiting for you.
I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of a man.
The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?
I am for those who believe in loose delights, I share the midnight orgies of young men, I dance with the dancers and drink with the drinkers.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done.
I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touched from, The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.
If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.
But where is what I started for so long ago? And why is it yet unfound?
You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin , or even vagueness - ignorance, credulity - helps your enjoyment of these things.
Clear and sweet is my soul, clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.
So here I sit in the early candle-light of old age-I and my book-casting backward glances over out travel'd road.
In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed of perfection.
Oh captain my captain
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