Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.— Walt Whitman
Perspective Leaves Of Grass quotations
We were together. I forget the rest.
Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you.
You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere - on water and land.
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first;
Be not discouraged - keep on - there are divine things, well envelop'd; I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
Be more humble than a blade of grass, more tolerant than a tree, always offering respect onto others and never expecting any in return
Wisdom is not finally tested by the schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof.
NOT I - NOT ANYONE else, can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.
I swear to you, there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell
I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
The world is holy. We are holy. All life is holy. Daily prayers are delivered on the lips of breaking waves, the whisperings of grasses, the shimmering of leaves.
This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable.
These are the days that must happen to you.
Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.
In the faces of men and women, I see God.
What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
The Bible tells us that God will meet all our needs.
He feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grass with the splendor of lilies. How much more, then, will He care for us, who are made in His image? Our only concern is to obey the heavenly Father and leave the consequences to Him.
Burn down your cities and leave our farms, and your cities will spring up again as if by magic; but destroy our farms and the grass will grow in the streets of every city in the country.
The same wind that uproots trees makes the grass shine.
The lordly wind loves the weakness and the lowness of grasses. Never brag of being strong. The axe doesn't worry how thick the branches are. It cuts them to pieces. But not the leaves. It leaves the leaves alone.
I grow savager and savager every day, as if fed on raw meat, and my tameness is only the repose of untamableness. I dream of looking abroad summer and winter, with free gaze, from some mountain-side,... to be nature looking into nature with such easy sympathy as the blue-eyed grass in the meadow looks in the face of the sky. From some such recess I would put forth sublime thoughts daily, as the plant puts forth leaves.
Removing the weeds, putting fresh soil about the bean stems, and encouraging this weed which I had sown, making the yellow soil express its summer thought in bean leaves and blossoms rather than in wormwood and piper and millet grass, making the earth say beans instead of grass, - this was my daily work.
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I can bear it.
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof, Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content, Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things; Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it.
Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest.
Something there is more immortal even than the stars.
I say the whole earth and all the stars in the sky are for religion's sake.
Give me solitude, give me Nature, give me again O Nature your primal sanities!
O amazement of things-even the least particle!
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night incessantly softly wash again and ever again, this soiled world.
Beautiful that war and all its deeds of carnage, must in time be utterly lost.
And a mouse is miracle enough to stagger sextillions of infidels.
Here is not merely a nation but a teeming nation of nations.
Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.
There will never be any more perfection than there is now.
Strong and content I travel the open road.
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a man or woman, Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or any one else.
O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done.
O Captain my Captain! our fearful trip is done, / The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won
O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless... of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?
All truths wait in all things.
Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now; And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.