| Quotes |
Topic |
| Advice | Re-examine all you have been told . . . Dismiss what insults your Soul. -Walt Whitman. |
| Age | Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe, old age flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death. |
| Butchering | The butcher in his killing clothes. |
| Censorship | Damn all expurgated books; the dirtiest book of all is the expurgated book. |
| Class | Other lands have their vitality in a few, a class, but we have it in the bulk of our people. |
| Defeat | Many a good man I have seen go under. |
| Democracy | Thunder on! Stride on! Democracy. Strike with vengeful strokes. |
| Earth | The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them. |
| God | In the faces of men and women I see God. |
| Katydids | Where the katydid works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over the well. |
| Language | Viewed freely, the English language is the accretion and growth of every dialect, race, and range of time, and is both the free and compacted composition of all. |
| Letters | The art of art, the glory of expression and the sunshine of the light of letters, is simplicity. |
| Love | Love the earth and sun and animals, Despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, Stand up for the stupid and crazy, Devote your income and labor to others ... And your very flesh shall be a great poem. |
| Mankind | Each of us inevitable; Each of us limitless - each of us with his or her right upon the earth; Each of us allowed the eternal purports of the earth; Each of us here as divinely as any is here. |
| Miracles | To me every hour of the day and night is an unspeakably perfect miracle. |
| Nature | A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. |
| Nature | I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars. |
| Poetry | To have great poets, there must be great audiences too. |
| Printing | The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case, He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blur with the manuscript. |
| Quality | Nothing endures but personal qualities. |
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