By Walt Whitman

We celebrate myself, and sing myself, And the thing I assume you shall assume, for each atom owned by me personally as good belongs for your requirements.

My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d with this soil, this atmosphere, Born right here of moms and dads born right right here from moms and dads equivalent, and their moms and dads exactly the same, we, now thirty-seven years of age in perfect wellness start, Hoping to stop not till death. Continue reading →