And as to me, I know nothing else but miracles

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long.

Shut not your doors to me proud libraries.

An electric chain seems to vibrate, as it were, between our brain and him or her preserved there [in a Daguerreotype] so well by the limner's cunning. Time, space, both are annihilated, and we identify the semblance with the reality.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am touched from, The scent of these armpits aroma finer than prayer, This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds.

When I give, I give myself.

I will not descend among professors and capitalists.