I stumbled upon and begun reading Walt Whitman's 52 section poem: "Song of Myself". It contains a lot of transcendentalism as well as inspiring bits and pieces all relating to his own feeling of his place in this universe and his body's oneness with nature. Although there are many lines each and every one of them are immensely powerful. I've read up to part 12 and will continue to try to do at least 10 each day. Here's a bit of my favorite (2):
"Houses and rooms are full of perfumes, the shelves are crowded with
perfumes,
I breathe the fragrance myself and know it and like it,
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The atmosphere is not a perfume, it has no taste of the
distillation, it is odorless,
It is for my mouth forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the bank by the wood and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and
vine,
My respiration and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing
of blood and air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and
dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn,"
-Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"
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