I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, O despairer, here is my neck, By God, you shall not go down!
The boy I love, the same becomes a man not through derived billeder af spilleautomater youtube vindere power, but in his own right, Wicked rather than virtuous out of conformity or fear, Fond of his sweetheart, relishing well his steak, Unrequited love or a slight cutting him worse than sharp.
Sermons, creeds, theology-but the fathomless human brain, And what is reason?
This minute that comes to me over the past decillions, There is no better than it and now.
I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so luscious, Each moment and whatever happens thrills me with joy, I cannot tell how my ankles bend, nor whence the cause of my faintest wish, Nor the cause of the friendship.I also say it is good to fall, battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps, All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.I do not press my fingers across my mouth, I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart, Copulation is no more rank to me than death.You light surfaces only, I force surfaces and depths also.All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening.This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And I said to my spirit When we become the enfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of every thing in them, shall we be fill'd and satisfied then?
12 The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market, I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.
Firm masculine colter it shall be you!
The boatmen and clam-diggers arose early and stopt for me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots and went and had a good time; You slot machine tips og tricks dollar should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
They were the glory of the race of rangers, Matchless with horse, rifle, song, supper, courtship, Large, turbulent, generous, handsome, proud, and affectionate, Bearded, sunburnt, drest in the free costume of hunters, Not a single one over thirty years of age.Broad muscular fields, branches of live oak, loving lounger in my winding paths, it shall be you!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.Unscrew the locks from the doors!If you would understand me go to the heights or water-shore, The nearest gnat is an explanation, and a drop or motion of waves key, The maul, the oar, the hand-saw, second my words.Sea of stretch'd ground-swells, Sea breathing broad and convulsive breaths, Sea of the brine of life and of unshovell'd yet always-ready graves, Howler and scooper of storms, capricious and dainty sea, I am integral with you, I too am of one phase and of all.All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning.