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

At times it has been doubtful to me if Emerson really knows or feels what Poetry is at its highest, as in the Bible, for instance, or Homer or Shakspeare. I see he covertly or plainly likes best superb verbal polish, or something old or odd

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

My ties and ballasts leave me - I travel - I sail - My elbows rest in the sea-gaps. I skirt the sierras. My palms cover continents - I am afoot with my vision.

I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.

I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.

I inhale great draught of space...the east and west are mine...and the north and south are mine...I am grandeur than I thought...I did not know i held so much goodness.