Quotes About Individuality

I am he who walks the States with a barb'd tongue, questioning every one I meet, Who are you that wanted only to be told what you knew before? Who are you that wanted only a book to join you in your nonsense?

Here are the roughs and beards and space and ruggedness and nonchalance that the soul loves. Here the performance disdaining the trivial unapproached

One's-Self I Sing One's-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say the Form complete is worthier far, The Female equally with the Male I sing. Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power, Cheerful, for freest action form'd under the laws divine, The Modern Man I sing.

I pursue you where none else has pursued you; Silence, the desk, the flippant expression, the night, the accustomed routine; if these conceal you from others, or from yourself, they do not conceal you from me. —Walt Whitman, from "To You," Leaves of Grass (Simon Schuster, August 1st 2006) Originally published July 4th 1855.

All this I swallow and it tastes good . . . . I like it well, and it becomes mine, I am the man . . . . I suffered . . . . I was there.

I exist as I am, that is enough, If not other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content.

Let your barbaric yop be heard through the rooftops!

I exist as I am, that is enough, If no other in the world be aware I sit content, And if each and all be aware I sit content. One world is aware and by far the largest to me, and that is myself

In all people I see myself, none more and not one a barleycorn less, And the good or bad I say of them.

Whoever you are, how superb and how divine is your body, or any part of it!

Creeds and schools in abeyance

Read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body (Leaves of Grass preface)

Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.) Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.

re-examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem...

Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.

Sem munkát-megtakarító gépet nem alkottam, Sem felfedezésem nincsen, Sem gazdag örökséget nem hagyok kórház, vagy könyvtár alapítására, Sem bátor tettek emlékét Amerika szolgálatában, Sem szellemi, sem irodalmi sikert, sem könyvet a könyves-polc számára, Csupán a levegÅ'ben hullámzó néhány dalom marad itt, Társaknak és szerelmeseknek.

I contain multitudes

Vagyok, ahogy vagyok, elég ennyi, Ha senki más nem vesz észre a világon, békén ülök, És ha mindenki észrevesz, akkor is békén ülök.

I resist anything better than my own diversity, And breathe the air and leave plenty after me

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

Not I, not any one else can travel that road for you, You must travel it for yourself.

I have said that the soul is not more than the body And the body not more than the soul And nothing, not God is greater to one than one's self is And he who walks a furlong without sympathy Walks to is own funeral drest in shroud

Walt Whitman, an American, one of the roughs, a kosmos, / Disorderly fleshy and sensual....eating drinking and breeding, / No sentimentalist....no stander above men and women or apart / from them....no more modest than immodest.

Kurayakan diri, kunyanyikan diri, Apa yang kusangka akan kau sangka, Untuk tiap atom milikku ialah juga milikmu. (Walt Whitman)