Walt Whitman Quotes

Biography

Type: Poet, essayist, and journalist

Born: May 31, 1819

Died: March 26, 1892

Walter "Walt" Whitman was an American poet, essayist, and journalist. A humanist, he was a part of the transition between transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works. Whitman is among the most influential poets in the "American canon", often called the father of free verse. His work was very controversial in its time, particularly his poetry collection "Leaves of Grass", which was described as obscene for its overt sexuality.

Walt Whitman Full Biography

Walt Whitman Quotes

To drive free, to love free, to court destruction with taunts. One brief house of madness and joy!

Pointing to another world will never stop vice among us; shedding light over this world can alone help us.

Re-examine all you have been told. Dismiss what insults your soul.

Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.

What stays with you longest and deepest? Of curious panics, of hard-fought engagements or sieges tremendous what deepest remains?

I like the scientific spirit - the holding off, the being sure but not too sure, the willingness to surrender ideas when the evidence is against them: this is ultimately fine - it always keeps the way beyond open - always gives life, thought, affection, the whole man, a chance to try over again after a mistake - after a wrong guess.

The untold want, by life and land ne'er granted,
Now, Voyager, sail thou forth, to seek and find.

Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.

Argue not concerning God,…re-examine all that you have been told at church or school or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your soul…

Every moment of light and dark is a miracle.

TO the States or any one of them, or any city of the States, Resist much, obey little,
Once unquestioning obedience, once fully enslaved,
Once fully enslaved, no nation, state, city of this earth, ever after-ward resumes its liberty.

Of Equality-as if it harm'd me, giving others the same chances and rights as myself-as if it were not indispensable to my own rights that others possess the same.

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, one of the nation, of many nations, the smallest the same and the the largest

Some people are so much sunshine to the square inch.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love
If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean
But I shall be good health to you nonetheless
And filter and fibre your blood.

Copulation is no more foul to me than death is.

poor boy! I never knew you, Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you

I have said that the soul is not more than the body,
And I have said that the body is not more than the soul,
And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's-self is,

I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least,
Nor do I understand who there can be more wonderful than myself.

Resist much, obey little.

What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.

I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.

Peace is always beautiful.

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

I act as the tongue of you,
... tied in your mouth . . . . in mine it begins to be loosened.

this is thy hour o soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson
done,
thee fully forth emerging, silent, gazing, pondering the
themes thou lovest best,
night, sleep, death and the stars.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road.
Healthy, free, the world before me.
The long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose.
Henceforth, I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune.
Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.

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 touch’d from;
The scent of these arm-pits, aroma finer than prayer;
This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me

Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love;
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love - the pay is certain, one way or another;
(I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return'd;
Yet out of that, I have written these songs.)

For we cannot tarry here,
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!

Here the frailest leaves of me and yet my strongest lasting, Here I shade and hide my thoughts, I myself do not expose them, And yet they expose me more than all my other poems

Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,
They scorn the best I can do to relate to them

Songs of myself
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen,
Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.

The dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book.

O the joy of my spirit-it is uncaged-it darts like lightning!
It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,
I will have thousands of globes and all time.

A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.

I depart as air, I shake my white locks at the runway sun, I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love. If you want me again look for me under your boot soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean. Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you

Battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.

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

The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.

I have learned that to be with those I like is enough

Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let him know he has enough.

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large - I contain multitudes.

God is a mean-spirited, pugnacious bully bent on revenge against His children for failing to live up to his impossible standards.

The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

have you learned the lessons only of those who admired you, and were tender with you, and stood aside for you? Have you not learned great lessons from those who braced themselves against you, and disputed passage with you?

To the real artist in humanity, what are called bad manners are often the most picturesque and significant of all.

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.

Sail Forth- Steer for the deep waters only. Reckless O soul, exploring. I with thee and thou with me. For we are bound where mariner has not yet dared go. And we will risk the ship, ourselves, and all.

My words itch at your ears till you understand them

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