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Walt Whitman Quotes - Page 20

All Quotes Age Aging Army Art Beach Beauty Children Conformity Country Dance Death Democracy Desire Doubt Dying Earth Empathy Evil Exercise Failing Faith Feelings Freedom Friendship Funny Giving Goodness Greatness Growth Happiness Hate Heart Heaven History Humanity Identity Immortality Inspiration Inspirational Journey Joy Judging Knowledge Liberty Life Love Mankind Military Moon Nature Past Perfection Poetry Purpose Quality Reading Reality Sailing School Science Self Esteem Simplicity Sleep Soul Spring Struggle Suffering Summer Sunshine Time Travel Truth Vision Waiting Walking War Water Wealth Writing

Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.

Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.

Spring, Book, Night

'So Long!'

Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood? Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

Men, Blood, People

Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.231, NYU Press

Human bodies are words, myriads of words, (In the best poems re-appears the body, man's or woman's, well-shaped, natural, gay, Every part able, active, receptive, without shame or the need of shame.)

Gay, Men, Body

Walt Whitman (2012). “Selected Poems”, p.65, Courier Corporation

not one escaped to tell the fall of Alamo, The hundred & fifty are dumb yet at Alamo.

Fall, Dumb, Fifty

Walt Whitman (2012). “Leaves of Grass: The Original 1855 Edition”, p.51, Courier Corporation

Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard.

Autumn, Giving, Juicy

Walt Whitman (2015). “Drum-Taps: The Complete 1865 Edition”, p.57, New York Review of Books

I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked.

Naked, Woods, Clothings

Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.2, NYU Press

A Song of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms - a song of the soil of fields. A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers handle the pitch-fork; A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk'd maize.

Song, Cities, Smell

Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett, Arthur Golden, William White (2008). “Leaves of Grass: Vol. I-III: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.590, NYU Press

The soul is always beautiful, it appears more or it appears less, it comes or it lags behind, It comes from its embowered garden and looks pleasantly on itself and encloses the world.

Beautiful, Garden, Soul

Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.118, NYU Press

How beggarly appear arguments before a defiant deed!

Deeds, Argument

1855 Leaves of Grass, 'Broad-Axe Song', later 'Song of the Broad- Axe' (from 1867).

Great is the faith of the flush of knowledge and of the investigation of the depths of qualities and things.

Faith, Knowledge, Science

Walt Whitman (2012). “Leaves of Grass: The Original 1855 Edition”, p.12, Courier Corporation

Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Games, Looks, Arms

Walt Whitman, Ezra Greenspan (2005). “Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself": A Sourcebook and Critical Edition”, p.46, Psychology Press

I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.

Summer, Ease, Grass

Walt Whitman, Clarence Merton Babcock (1969). “Leaves of grass: selected poetry and prose”

Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful stroke!

Military, War, Democracy

Walt Whitman (2013). “Leaves of Grass”, p.465, Simon and Schuster

I speak the password primeval; I give the sign of democracy.

Military, Giving, Democracy

Walt Whitman (2015). “Leaves of Grass: Top Classic Poetry”, p.76, 谷月社

WE two boys together clinging, One the other never leaving, Up and down the roads going, North and South excursions making, Power enjoying, elbows stretching, fingers clutching, Arm'd and fearless, eating, drinking, sleeping, loving. No law less than ourselves owning, sailing, soldiering, thieving, threatening, Misers, menials, priests alarming, air breathing, water drinking, on the turf or the sea-beach dancing, Cities wrenching, ease scorning, statutes mocking, feebleness chasing, Fulfilling our foray.

Beach, Drinking, Sleep

Walt Whitman (2011). “Walt Whitman's Songs of Male Intimacy and Love: "Live Oak, with Moss" and "Calamus"”, p.94, University of Iowa Press

The beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Beautiful, Hair, Leaves Of Grass

'Song of Myself' (1855) st. 6

As to scenery (giving my own thought and feeling), while I know the standard claim is that Yosemite, Niagara Falls, the Upper Yellowstone and the like afford the greatest natural shows, I am not so sure but the prairies and plains, while less stunning at first sight, last longer, fill the esthetic sense fuller, precede all the rest, and make North America's characteristic landscape.

Fall, America, Yellowstone

Walt Whitman (2012). “Specimen Days & Collect”, p.150, Courier Corporation

The words of my book nothing, the drift of it everything.

Book, Reading, Writing

Walt Whitman (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1860-1867”, p.456, NYU Press

Will you seek afar off? You surely come back at last, In things best known to you, finding the best, or as good as the best, In folks nearest to you finding the sweetest, strongest, lovingest; Happiness, knowledge, not in another place, but this place-not for another hour, but this hour.

Afar, Lasts, Hours

Walt Whitman, Sculley Bradley, Harold W. Blodgett (2008). “Leaves of Grass: A Textual Variorum of the Printed Poems, 1855-1856”, p.97, NYU Press

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