I meet new Walt Whitmans everyday. There are a dozen of them afloat. I don't know which Walt Whitman I am.

Here or henceforward it is all the same to me, I accept Time absolutely.

Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.

Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands; How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more than he.

Other lands have their vitality in a few, a class, but we have it in the bulk of our people.

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.