Resist much, obey little.
What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
Do I contradict myself? Very well, then, I contradict myself; I am large – I contain multitudes.
Keep your face always toward the sunshine – and shadows will fall behind you.
We were together. I forget the rest.
Do anything, but let it produce joy.
And your very flesh shall be a great poem.
Peace is always beautiful.
I discover myself on the verge of a usual mistake.
Battles are lost in the same spirit in which they are won.
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road. Healthy, free, the world before me. The long brown path before me leading me wherever I choose. Henceforth, I ask not good fortune, I myself am good fortune. Henceforth, I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles. You will hardly know who I am or what I mean But I shall be good health to you nonetheless And filter and fibre your blood.
I accept Time absolutely. It alone is without flaw, It alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder.
The road to wisdom is paved with excess. The mark of a true writer is their ability to mystify the familiar and familiarize the strange.
There was never any more inception than there is now, Nor any more youth or age than there is now; And will never be any more perfection than there is now, Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, not look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books. You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, you shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.
To have great poets, there must be great audiences.
I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.
I lean and loaf at my ease... observing a spear of summer grass.