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80 phrases of Walt Whitman

80 phrases of Walt Whitman

Walt whitman (1819 - 1892) was an American poet, essayist and journalist. A humanist, who was a part of the transition between transcendentalism and realism, incorporating both views in his works.

Whitman is among the most influential poets of the American canon, often called the father of free verse. His work was controversial in his time, particularly his poetry collection Leaves of Grass, which is considered to be a milestone in the history of American literature, was also described as obscene because of its manifest sensuality. Whitman's own life was scrutinized for his alleged homosexuality.

He is the most important poet and best represents the image of the United States. His most famous poem, Oh, Captain, my Captain! -known today for the excellent performance of Robin Williams uploaded to a school desk in Dead poets society- is a dedication to his beloved Abraham Lincoln once murdered: "My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and inert."

As a curiosity we will say that Whitman was interested in the study of the brain, he thought he could reveal everything about a man. That's how after his death his brain was sent to the American Anthropometric Society to be weighed and measured. Unfortunately, one of the lab workers slipped his brain, he reported: "It scattered everywhere and that's where the story ended. The brain of the greatest poet in America was swept and thrown away."

Do not miss this fantastic compilation of your best quotes.

Famous quotes by Walt Whitman

Keep your face always in the sunlight, and the shadows will fall behind you.

All truth awaits in all things.

You must travel alone.

Is not far. It is within reach.

The future is no more uncertain than the present.

Resist much obey little.

Be curious not judgmental.

Maybe you've been there since you were born and didn't know it.

I am as bad as the worst, but, thank God, I am as good as the best.

Give me the splendid and silent sun with all its dazzling rays.

I'm going on a perpetual trip.

If you love me again, look for me under the soles of your boots.

Peace is always beautiful.

Whoever you are, I now put my hand on you so you can be my poem.

I whisper with my lips near your ear.

I accept the time absolutely.

I have loved many women and men, but I don't love anyone but you.

What satisfies the soul is the truth.

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

Let your soul stay cold and composed.

Barefoot and cheerful I take the path open, healthy and free, the world before me.

If you did, don't brag.

I am bigger, better than I thought; I didn't know I had such goodness.

From now on I do not ask for good fortune. I am good fortune myself.

From this hour I order myself without limits or imaginary lines.

There is no God more divine than yourself.

I have learned that being with those I like is enough.

I swear, there are divine things more beautiful than words can say.

I exist as I am, that is enough, if no one else in the world notices, I feel happy, and if each and every one notices, I feel happy.

What do you express in your eyes? It seems more than all the impression I've read in my life.

I am satisfied ... I see, I dance, I laugh, I sing.

The strongest and sweetest songs have not yet been sung.

In the faces of men and women, I see God.

The real war will never enter the books.

Pointing to another world will never stop the vice among us; shedding light on this world can only help us.

These are the days that should happen to you.

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

How strange, if you come to meet me and want to talk to me, why don't you talk to me? And why shouldn't I talk to you?

Now, traveler, navigate forward to search and find.

I don't ask the injured person how he feels, I myself become the injured person.

My words itch in your ears until you understand them.

To have great poets, there must be large audiences, before a million universes.

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.

I find myself on the verge of a habitual error.

Every moment of light and darkness is a miracle.

I listen and see God in every object, but I don't understand God in the least.

But where is what I started so long ago? And why hasn't it been found yet?

The powerful game continues and you can contribute a verse.

The dirtiest book of all is the banned book.

I meet new Walt Whitmans's every day. There are a dozen of them afloat. I do not know who I am.

I wear the hat as I like, inside or outside.

We were together. I forgot the rest.

When I give, I give myself.

What do you express in your eyes? It seems more than all the impression I've read in my life.

And your very flesh will be a great poem.

Touch me, touch the palm of your hand on my body when it passes, don't fear my body.

Rest with me in the grass, release the top of your throat; What I want is not words, music or rhyme, customs or conferences, not even the best; Only the calm that I like, the hum of your valuable voice.

You must get used to the glare of light and every moment of your life.

You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, however, I will be in good health for you, and I will filter and tangle your blood.

Missing one place, I looked for another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.

Stop with me day and night and you will possess the origin of all the poems, you will possess the good of the earth and the sun ... there are millions of suns left, you will no longer take second or third hand things ... nor will you look through the eyes of the dead ... neither will you feed on the ghosts in the books, neither will you look through my eyes, nor will you take things from me, will listen everywhere and filter them out of yourself.

As I walk by your side, or I feel close, or stay in the same room with you, you know little about the subtle electric fire that is playing for you inside me.

I have to wait, I don't doubt to see you again, I have to make sure I don't lose you.

Love the earth, the sun and the animals, despise the riches, give alms to all who ask, defend the stupid and crazy, dedicate your income and work to others ...

A writer can do nothing for men but simply reveal to them the infinite possibility of their own souls.

Do anything, but let them produce joy.

Perhaps it is everywhere, in the water and the earth.

Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I'm big, I contain crowds.

From now on I will step on the world, chaste, temperate, early riser, cultivator and stable.

You have dreamed enough of despicable dreams.

Recheck everything you have been told. Discard what insults your soul.

Happiness, not in another place but in this place. Not in another hour but in this hour. Neither I nor anyone else can travel that path for you.

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

Everything goes forward and outward, nothing collapses, and dying is different from what anyone supposed, and more fortunate.

From this hour, freedom! Going where I like it, my own teacher.

I cannot be awake, because nothing seems to me as I did before, or else I am awake for the first time, and all of the above has been a cruel dream.

Have you learned the lessons only from those who admired you, were gentle with you and set you aside? Have you not learned great lessons from those who prepared against you and disputed passages with you?

The path to wisdom is paved with excess. The mark of a true writer is his ability to mystify the familiar and familiarize the strange.

I think I will do nothing for a long time more than listen and accumulate what I hear in myself ... and let the sound contribute to me.

Only they understand themselves and the like, as souls only understand souls.

Neither I nor anyone else can travel that path for you. You must travel alone. Is not far. It is within reach. Maybe you've been in it since you were born and didn't know it. Perhaps it is everywhere, in the water and the earth.

The secret of everything is to write in the moment, the beat, the flood of the moment, to leave things without deliberation, without worrying about your style, without waiting for a suitable moment or place. I always worked that way. I took the first piece of paper, the first door, the first desk, and wrote, wrote, wrote ... When writing in the instant, the beat of life is trapped.

There was never more initiation than there is now, no more youth or age than there is now; And there will never be more perfection than there is now, no more heaven or hell than there is now.