The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity.
Re-examine all that you have been told... dismiss that which insults your soul.
I see that I am to wait for what will be exhibited by death.
Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I can bear it.
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?
I meet new Walt Whitmans everyday. There are a dozen of them afloat. I don't know which Walt Whitman I am.