I keep thinking about you every few minutes all day.

I celebrate myself, and sing myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

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

I see behind each mask that wonder a kindred soul.

What a devil art thou, Poverty! How many desires - how many aspirations after goodness and truth - how many noble thoughts, loving wishes toward our fellows, beautiful imaginings thou hast crushed under thy heel, without remorse or pause!

Happiness, not in another place but this place...not for another hour, but this hour.

The orchestra whirls me wider than Uranus flies, It wrenches such ardors from me I did not know I possess'd them