Do you guess I have some intricate purpose? Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.

I say to mankind, Be not curious about God. For I, who am curious about each, am not curious about God - I hear and behold God in every object, yet understand God not in the least.

And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm me.

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

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

Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space.

To die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.