Thou reader throbbest life and pride and love the same as I,
Therefore for thee the following chants.
I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me,
why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,
And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not
wait at the end to arrest it,
And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.
All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and
I do not press my fingers across my mouth
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work
of the stars
My faith is the greatest of faiths and the least of faiths,
Enclosing worship ancient and modern and all between
ancient and modern,
Believing I shall come again upon the earth after five
Each one who passes is consider’d, each who stops is
consider’d, not a single one can it fail.
I do not know it – it is without name – it is a word unsaid
It is not chaos or death – it is form, union, plan – it is
eternal life – it is Happiness.
The love of the body of a man or woman balks account,
the body itself balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is
Each belongs here or anywhere just as much as the
well-off, just as much as you,
Each has his or her place in the procession.
(What is this that frees me so in storms?
What do my shouts amid lightnings and raging winds mean?)
– Quotes from “Leaves of grass by Walt Whitman