"Songs of myselfClear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul. Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn."
"Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?"
"O the joy of my spirit--it is uncaged--it darts like lightning!It is not enough to have this globe or a certain time,I will have thousands of globes and all time."
"I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I loveIf you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.You will hardly know who I am or what I meanBut I shall be good health to you nonethelessAnd filter and fibre your blood."
"This is the city, and I am one of the citizens/Whatever interests the rest interests me"
"What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life."