47 I am the teacher of athletes, He that by me spreads a wider breast than my own proves the width of my own, He most honors my style who learns under it to destroy the teacher.
No shutter'd room or school can commune with me, But roughs and little children better than they.
And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.
My breath is tight in its throat, Unclench your floodgates, you are too much for.This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven, And gratis online wheel of fortune slots programvara 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?A few quadrillions of eras, a few octillions of cubic leagues, do not hazard the span or make it impatient, They are but parts, any thing is but a part.I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets.Gentlemen, to you the first honors always!I do not say these things for a dollar or to fill up the time while I wait for a boat, (It is you talking just as much as myself, I act as the tongue of you, Tied in your mouth, in mine it begins.You are also asking me questions and I hear you, I answer that I cannot answer, you must find out for yourself.
Clear and sweet is my soul, and clear and sweet is all that is not my soul.8 The little one sleeps in its cradle, I lift the gauze and look a long time, and silently brush away flies with my hand.Unscrew the locks from the doors!I beat and pound for the dead, I blow through my embouchures my loudest and gayest for them.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.Well I have, for the Fourth-month showers have, and the mica on the side of a rock has.Behavior lawless as snow-flakes, words simple as grass, uncomb'd head, laughter, and naivete, Slow-stepping feet, common features, common modes and emanations, They descend in new forms from the tips of his fingers, They are wafted with the odor of his body or breath, they fly.14 The wild gander leads his flock through the cool night, Ya-honk he says, and sounds it down to me like an invitation, The pert may suppose it meaningless, but I listening close, Find its purpose and place up there toward the wintry sky.