This face is a dog's snout sniffing for garbage, snakes nest in that mouth, I hear the sibilant threat.

Give me such shows - give me the streets of Manhattan!

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems

Future years will never know the seething hell and the black infernal background, the countless minor scenes and interiors of the secession war; and it is best they should not. The real war will never get in the books.

Not I, nor anyone else can travel that road for you. You must travel it by yourself. It is not far. It is within reach. Perhaps you have been on it since you were born, and did not know. Perhaps it is everywhere - on water and land.

The past, the future, majesty, love - if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

The eager and often inconsiderate appeals of reformers and revolutionists are indispensable to counterbalance the inertia and fossilism marking so large a part of human institutions.