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Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

My Picture-Gallery. MY PICTURE-GALLERY.

Deliriate, thus prelude what is generated, offering these, offering myself, Bathing myself, bathing my

songs in Sex, Offspring of my loins.

My Picture-Gallery. MY PICTURE-GALLERY.

"Some kind words from my friend William Carey there—William Carey.

Some don't like my long lines, some do: some don't like my commas, some do: some cuss my long catalogues

My proper habitat is out-of-doors."

I spend all my time at work about the place and like it much.

"Yes, they do, and I was about to say so, but you took it out of my mouth.

Thoreau, in Brooklyn, that first time he came to see me, referred to my critics as 'reprobates.'

somehow as if none of the changes should have been made: that I should have said, take me as I am: my

bad and my good, my everything—just as I am: to hell with all cuts, all excisions, all moralistic abridgements

W. said again: "Conway could never understand my stony attitude towards expurgations: he at once flew

My dear Walt: I introduce to you Mr.

I anticipate a time, not very far distant, when I will lose my physical volition altogether—suffer an

I am extremely cautious—weighing every grain before giving in my adhesion."

All that is required under the present idea, my idea, might be a little preface, stating my reasons for

this particular issue of my works."

My first taste of the country was at Alloway, Burns' birthplace.

I sit here all day, or lie over there"—motioning towards the bed—"and that is what my life amounts to

"I see—I see: it must be wrong—but that is one of my idiocrities—to put it there and let it be, wrong

personal decency, even my goodness, and then dismissing my literary insanity and worse with a shrug

I have lived as yet but eighteen years; yet in all the constant thoughts and acts of my last few years

, your words have been my guides and true oracles.

"I regret my ignorance of German: German is the one foreign language I am sorry I did not go into when

"They are not wrong—they are only my whims, oddities: as such I must let them pass."

It is my old play-book, used many and many times in my itinerant theatre days: Richard: Shakespeare's

Yes, I have made the best of my sluggish pulse by trying to keep it sure, strong.

Every man has to learn his own best method: my method is to go slow, extra slow.

My dear Mr. Whitman:Allow me to introduce to you Mr.

My eye caught on the woodpile a bunch of manuscript. I picked it up. "What is this?

I stopped: that was always the case—always my habit."

He is seven years my senior, I believe: Herbert says, shows age, is round-shouldered, stoops."

After a pause: "My mental work was always taken easy: more-over, I have never forgotten what I owe my

:New York, Oct. 10th 1890 My dear Traubel:Still excessively busy. I enclose draft for Ad.

Don't give away an unnecessary dollar is my best judgement and advice on this.I think it well however

My best to Mr. Morris. You say nothing about cash advance to pay expenses. Don't you want any?

No amount of argument could of course remove my feeling.

my eyes in work and my right arm is very helpless and painfull—it keeps me from getting good rest at

Some of my simplest pieces have created the most noise.

to my purposes, determinations.

"There are things in there to interest you—discussing my prose and poems.

My plans at present are to be in Washington (at Med. Supt.

spiritual, godly, most of all known to my sense."

Williams'), but quickly read at my suggestion. How did he feel?

Once in my boyhood I saw his noble form and kindly face, but never have I grasped his democratic hand

from Concord, your letter reached me in Chicago, where I have been for a week awaiting the wedding of my

Give my earnest love to Walt Whitman on this memorial occasion, and tell him we think of him at Concord

I might, by setting every thing else at defiance, transport my body to the place of assembly, but by

But to the account of my adventures (for it is now necessary to drop the editorial "we,") last fall,

hook again with "fiddlers," while the fish floundered at a great rate around my feet.

word, accoutred as I was, I plunged—the fish—into an old tin kettle, and gave them, with sixpence and my

the wharf with a boat-hook, and offering his shoulder for me to step on—though, as he was about half my

divided the water—to lie on my back and gaze by the half-hour at the passing clouds overhead—merely

My South! O quick mettle, rich blood, impulse, and love! Good and evil! O all dear to me!

the Tombigbee, the Santee, the Coosa, and the Sabine; O pensive, far away wandering, I return with my

the graceful palmetto; I pass rude sea-headlands and enter Pamlico Sound through an inlet, and dart my

Me, ruthless and devilish as any, that my wrists are not chain'd with iron, or my ankles with iron?

My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make preparation to be worthy to

the still woods I loved; I will not go now on the pastures to walk; I will not strip the clothes from my

body to meet my lover the sea; I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh, to renew me

and meat; I do not see any of it upon you to-day—or perhaps I am deceiv'd; I will run a furrow with my

I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo!

my city! The city of such women, I am mad to be with them!

I rubbed my eyes a little, to see if this sunbeam were no illusion; but the solid sense of the book is

head at nightfall, and he is fain to say,— I too am not a bit tamed—I too am untranslatable; I sound my

I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease…observing a spear of summer grass.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeeful green stuff woven.

All I mark as my own you shall offset it with your own, Else it were time lost listening to me.

If he could find them wished my father "to go over them and report."

My father is reading Bucke's W.W.

They are a rest to my mind—are always fresh, new—give me the quiet, the peace, I crave."

My friends may say that to me when I say hello to the Colonel, but I say, damn my friends if their friendship

He said: "I carry it about in my heart—carry it—yes: and William, too.

Why should he not put them down now, independent of my article?

been with you on the 31st of May last, here is in substance what I should have said and what sums up my

what I should have said, had I been this last 31st May among you: and then I should have raised in my

turn my glass wishing a very long life to the august old man and assuring him of all my love.Kindly

But I know I did my best reading when I was alone that way—off in the woods or on the shore.

She must have made a guess on my size and guessed wrong."

He throws nothing in my way, but he does nothing to welcome me.

W. called my attention to some newspaper criticisms of his books.

But my feet are eternally gone." I happened to say to W.: "I will be honest.

My dear Mr.

To 328 on my way home. Happened in a little earlier than normal—and when W. shortly called Mrs.

I went over my mail categorically. "What does Sarrazin say? He is still sick? Poor fellow!

Give him my sympathy.

he asked, and to my, "Well," exclaimed, "Dear girl!" I adding, "She was here last night."

You need not be surprised to receive a dispatch warning you of my approach.

little son, Prince Arthur, who was taken prisoner by his usurping uncle: "Grief fills the room up of my

had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.— I will not keep this form upon my

head, When there is such disorder in my wit.

My boy, my Arthur, my fair son!

My life, my joy, my food, my all in the world, My widow–comfort, and my sorrow's cure!"

I call to the world to distrust the accounts of my friends, but listen to my enemies—as I myself do;

WHO learns my lesson complete?

as every one is immortal; I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally wonderful, and how I was

And that my Soul embraces you this hour, and we affect each other without ever seeing each other, and

Whoever you are, now I place my hand upon you, that you be my poem; I whisper with my lips close to your

I shook my head. "Not at all." He laughed gently. "Dry as hell, wasn't it?

My dear Horace:I have yours of the 14th this morning. All quiet.

head: that my head will stand by me to the last."

I had Bucke's letter in my pocket. "How do you come to that conclusion?" I asked.

"I got two anonymous letters in my mail today." "Where are they now?" He smiled.

My offer to light the gas was rejected, though he used my arm to assist him in doing the thing for himself

Then he reached forward and took my hand. "I see what you mean, Horace.

"When a man comes to my pass he'd best take the next step as quickly as possible."

But that work—that work: we must get it done before I write down 'finis' next my name."

Is this my sorry face?

Smooth my way—with all the aches and pains I've had for a week!

Asked me to have my sister Gussie prepare him some mutton—described how, &c., with amusing detail.

This is my Harned day. I wonder if the Harned Sundays will ever return?"

Was very particular to have me keep up my writing to O'Connor and Bucke.

He called my attention to it. I asked: "Are you sure this is not a love letter?

But on my insistence found it and brought out, Wallace inspecting for some time.

, give my love to both the others and tell them what I tell you now.

And my head gets such queer whirlings, like chestnuts in a pot—jumping, turning.

As W. fingered the book he was writing on on my entrance, he explained, laughing, "This is my old Virgil—you

It is the book I had in my carpet bag and burst a bottle of wine over in one of my trips to the army

Indeed put it in my own words."

I whipped a sheet of paper out of my pocket and wrote in the dark as he dictated.

My warmest thanks to him & you, which please convey to him if you can.

Then repeated to him the substance of my talk with Dave.

My dearest love to you & my most fervent prayers & good wishes are yours always.Wallace I, too, had letters

Camden April 16 '89 Nothing very different or new in my affairs—the past ten days bad rather—sort of

last rec'd—have no opinion or comment or suggestion to make —did you receive (& send on to O'C[onnor]) my

Private My dear Sir: I send herewith a proof of my poem for convenience for use in your paper, should

Camden N J Sept: September 12 My dear friend I just write to tell you that I have heard of your dear

father's death, & that you have my true sympathy—Love to Arthur and Emily & all—It is no time now to

My dear Mr Whitman Please write Your Autograph & Enclose in the Accompanying Envelope I appreciate the

Many favors Asked of You feel desire Your Autograph So Much to Add to My Already Good Collection that

February 15, 1889 Am sitting by the oak fire all day—no visitors or letters—but sort o' get along with my

papers & books—Kennedy, Boston, sends kindest inquiries ab't you with sympathy & greeting—My friend

Camden Nov: 20 '88 Still ab't holding my own & comfortable—nothing very new or notable—The Transcript

I send with Hamlin Garland's notice of Nov: Boughs —Still keep my sick room—Clear sunny cool to-day.

I know perfectly well my own egotism. . . .

I will put in my poems, that with you is heroism, upon land and sea. . . .

On my way a moment I pause, Here for you! And here for America!

of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,

Earth of the limpid gray of clouds, brighter and clear- er clearer for my sake!

When I exhibited my prize he exclaimed: "Handsome!

My blood, your blood, went to the making of this book!

"My main thought?

My last, my final, my conclusive, message (conclusive for me) is in A Backward Glance: the steel of its

It's a chapter in my personal history that must not be lost sight of.

"I noticed it as I sat here—the dust flew up in a perfect cloud—I got my mouth full of it.

thoughts but the very opposite of my thoughts.

This was about the time of the Walt Whitman Club business that I put my foot down on.

"If it was to tip over, it would knock my neck badly out of joint.

"Over there on the box," he said, "is my red handkerchief: will you hand it to me?"

"I want to be ready for you: you are the oasis in my desert."

I asked him: "Do you really feel that way about my coming?

He says: "I keep myself down: I don't worry the strength out of my body: my one word is conservation.

He adds: "I have to subject all my rebellious moods to the necessities of my corporeal self."

He took my dare beautifully meek, I must say.

You remember I wrote it on one of my off days." "Now this is an on day and you correct it."

You mean that it would be significant as showing my condition the day I wrote it?

It is the fore-dream of my own questions: I put that question to myself every day.

My impression of it was favorable—not the common one at all.

My own curiosity to see him is great.

succeeding poem, we have him clearly in trance, and the impressing spirit speaking through him:— Take my

see Hermes, unsuspected, dying, well-beloved, saying to the people, Do not weep for me, This is not my

Here is one which again proclaims his purpose:— I stand in my place, with my own day, here.

And what are my miracles? 2.

side, and some behind, and some embrace my arms and neck.

As to "Why should my dog inhabit heaven if I?" W. said: "Why not?

I took it out of my pocket. "Read that passage to me again." I did so.

Adams, my last news of your health, and enclosing also a copy of my last circular (summer of 1876) regarding

My wife received lately a letter from Mrs.

I can but repeat my delight in this prospect, were it to be realized, and my wife's hope and my own that

philosopher's life in the quiet woodland ways, Where if I cannot be gay let a passionless peace be my

And my heart is a handful of dust, And the wheels go over my head, And my bones are shaken with pain,

What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition.

You shall stand by my side, and look in the mirror with me."

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.

grave illness, I gather up the pieces of prose and poetry left over since publishing a while since my

For some reason—not explainable or definite to my own mind, yet secretly pleasing and satisfactory to

And thee, My Soul! Joys, ceaseless exercises, exaltations!

Thee for my recitative!

Roll through my chant with all thy lawless music!

That, O my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.

What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?

I swear I will have each quality of my race in my- self myself , (Talk as you like, he only suits These

rapt verse, my call—mock me not!

You, by my charm, I invoke!

For that we live, my brethren—that is the mission of Poets.

Have you studied out my land, its idioms and men?

What is this you bring my America? Is it uniform with my country?

rapt song, my charm—mock me not!

You, by my charm, I invoke!

"My words itch at your ears till you understand them," he had said.

My heart was palpitating, my nerves tingling, and every sense was alert as we entered the little house

I paused—my nervousness quite gone—feasting my eyes, warming my heart,—when lo!

I have dismissed whatever insulted my own soul or defiled my body.

"My rendezvous is appointed," I murmured, as I kissed him.

I am still the same—am all alone in the house to-day, as my brother has gone to New York & my sister

Walt Whitman: My dear Sir, I take the liberty of sending you in the same mail with this, a little pamphlet

Should it prove so, my object will then be attained.

Camden N J March 19 '82 Dear Sirs I have been expecting response to my letter sent you some twelve days

I re-affirm my suggestions and disposition of March 8 — Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to James R.

—Wishes me to invite you in his name & my own—You come here say ½ past 12 & we will drive down in my