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

We convince by our presence.

Camden was originally an accident, but I shall never be sorry I was left over in Camden. It has brought me blessed returns.

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.

Loafe with me on the grass—loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want—not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice.

Do you see O my brothers and sisters? It is not chaos or death, it is form, union, plan, it is eternal life, it is happiness.

I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself?