Leaves of Grass

And there is no object so soft but it makes a hub for the wheel'd universe,

Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd touch! Did it make you ache so, leaving me?

some daring rebel;

Eidolons

gossip of flames,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

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 is. I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch or am tou

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

I have said that the soul is not more than the body, And I have said that the body is not more than the soul, And nothing, not God, is greater to one than one's self is,