I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware, I sit content, And if each and all be aware, I sit content.
Has anyone supposed it lucky to be born? I hasten to inform him or her that it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself.
Agonies are one of my changes of garments.
Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I can bear it.
Whatever satisfies the soul is truth.