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

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.

O captain! My Captain! Our fearful trip is done. The ship has weather'd every wrack The prize we sought is won The port is near, the bells I hear The people all exulting While follow eyes, the steady keel The vessel grim and daring But Heart! Heart! Heart! O the bleeding drops of red Where on the deck my captain lies Fallen cold and dead.

Be not ashamed women, ... You are the gates of the body, and you are the gates of the soul.

In this broad earth of ours, Amid the measureless grossness and the slag, Enclosed and safe within its central heart, Nestles the seed of perfection.

All truths wait in all things.

I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.