Quotes on Leaves Of Grass

I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person.

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

And I or you pocketless of a dime, may purchase the pick of the earth.

I am satisfied ... I see, dance, laugh, sing.

The question, O me! so sad, recurring - What good amid these, O me, O life? That you are here - that life exists and identity, that the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.

Are you the new person drawn toward me?

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you/ That you may be my poem/ I whisper with my lips close to your ear/ I have loved many women and men, but I love none better than you.