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

All beauty comes from beautiful blood and a beautiful brain.

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

Produce great men, the rest follows.

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

In all people I see myself - none more, and not one a barleycorn less; And the good or bad I say of myself, I say of them.

What do you think has become of the young and old men? And what do you think has become of the women and children? They are alive and well somewhere, The smallest sprout shows there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceas'd the moment life appear'd. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.