Copulation is no more foul to me than death is.

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.

You linger to see his back, and the back of his neck and shoulder-side...The Bending forward and backward of the rowers...

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

In the faces of men and women, I see God.

I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

O joy of suffering! To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies undaunted! To be entirely alone with them! to find how much one can stand! To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death, face to face! To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of guns with perfect nonchalance! To be indeed a God!