All music is is what awakes from you when you are reminded by the instruments.
Comerado, this is no book,Who touches this, touches a man,(Is it night? Are we here alone?)It is I you hold, and who holds you,I spring from the pages into your arms-decease calls me forth.
Interpretation
What this quote means
This quote expresses a deep connection between the reader and the author, emphasizing the intimacy of literature.
In this quote, Walt Whitman conveys the idea that engaging with a book is not merely a solitary activity, but rather a profound interaction between the reader and the author. The phrase 'who touches this, touches a man' suggests that literature is an extension of human experience, capturing the essence of life, emotions, and the shared human condition. Whitman's words invite readers to embrace the personal connection that literature fosters, as if the author is reaching out to them directly, creating a bridge between different lives and experiences.
Themes
In practice
Example use cases
This quote could be used in a book club discussion to express the emotional impact of literature.
More from Walt Whitman
All quotes →Did you, too, O friend, suppose democracy was only for elections, for politics, and for a party name? I say democracy is only of use there that it may pass on and come to its flower and fruit in manners, in the highest forms of interaction between people, and their beliefs - in religion, literature, colleges and schools- democracy in all public and private life.
In the confusion we stay with each other, happy to be together, speaking without uttering a single word.
A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
Now, dearest comrade, lift me to your face,_x000D_ _x000D_ We must separate awhileHere! take from my lips this kiss._x000D_ _x000D_ Whoever you are, I give it especially to you;_x000D_ _x000D_ So long!And I hope we shall meet again.
And whoever walks a furlong without sympathy walks to his own funeral drest in his shroud.
Similar quotes
Nobody knows that in reading we are re-living our temptations to be a poet. All readers who have a certain passion for reading, nurture and repress, through reading, the desire to become a writer.
Sometimes I sensed that the books I read in rapid succession had set up some sort of murmur among themselves, transforming my head into an orchestra pit where different musical instruments sounded out, and I would realize that I could endure this life because of these musicales going on in my head.
Fiction gives us empathy: it puts us inside the minds of other people, gives us the gifts of seeing the world through their eyes. Fiction is a lie that tells us true things, over and over.
People often ask me why my style is so simple. It is, in fact, deceptively simple, for no two sentences are alike. It is clarity that I am striving to attain, not simplicity. Of course, some people want literature to be difficult and there are writers who like to make their readers toil and sweat. They hope to be taken more seriously that way. I have always tried to achieve a prose that is easy and conversational. And those who think this is simple should try it for themselves.
You hear all this whining going on, "Where are our great writers?" The thing I might feel doleful about is: Where are the readers?
Some Native American writers enjoy being called Native American writers.