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Seite 33 - Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above men and women or apart from them, No more modest than immodest. Unscrew the locks from the doors ! Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs ! Whoever degrades another degrades me, And whatever is done or said returns at last to me.
Seite 36 - I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is, And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud, And I or you pocketless of a dime may purchase the pick of the earth.
Seite 31 - You sea ! I resign myself to you also — I guess what you mean, I behold from the beach your crooked inviting fingers, I believe you refuse to go back without feeling of me, We must have a turn together, I undress, hurry me out of sight of the land, Cushion me soft, rock me in billowy drowse, Dash me with amorous wet, I can repay you.
Seite 39 - The spotted hawk swoops by and accuses me, he complains of my gab and my loitering. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
Seite 13 - Tenderly will I use you, curling grass ; It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men, It may be if I had known them I would have loved them, It may be you are from old people, and from women, and from offspring taken soon out of their mothers' laps, And here you are the mothers
Seite 20 - Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes and lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death is.
Seite 17 - Twenty-eight young men bathe by the shore, Twenty-eight young men and all so friendly; Twenty-eight years of womanly life and all so lonesome. She owns the fine house by the rise of the bank, She hides handsome and richly drest aft the blinds of the window.
Seite 7 - 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 loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at,fhy ease observing a spear of summer grass.
Seite 15 - The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.
Seite 5 - THE LAST INVOCATION AT the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful fortress'd house, From the clasp of the knitted locks, from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks — with a whisper, Set ope the doors O soul.