Walt Whitman

The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
He turns his quid of tobacco, read more

The jour printer with gray head and gaunt jaws works at his case,
He turns his quid of tobacco, while his eyes blur with the
manuscript.

I accept reality and dare not question it.

I accept reality and dare not question it.

The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where read more

The earth, that is sufficient, I do not want the constellations any nearer, I know they are very well where they are, I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

The butcher in his killing clothes.

The butcher in his killing clothes.

There can be no theory of any account unless it corroborate with the theory of the earth.

There can be no theory of any account unless it corroborate with the theory of the earth.