25 August 2008

W. Whitman, Leaves of Grass, p.17



I've been thinking much of late on my disposition; am I of optimistic or melancholy mind?  What makes something good? What in the world is evil?  And what are all these assessments I am so prone to make, both of things inside and outside myself?  I turn to one who knew.  You can click the image to enlarge it enough to read.  And please do.

2 comments:

paul gee said...

I love Whitman, although I don't really read him. Whitman was the great observer - container for everything, see-er, open device, closed to nothing...Whitman did not want answers, he just wanted the questions and the statements of truth that are meaningless without answers. Meaningless as the sun and the moon are. They mean nothing. Images have no inherent meaning. Whitman's poems avoid meaning and yearn for pure existence - an image, an artifact of a man's emotions - meaningless, beautiful, archaic.

M. R. said...

nice paul !! i was just talking with my uncle today about whether objects have value. my immediate response, which i think has some value after these hours, was that value is a subjective imposition on an object. it's a response, but it doesn't really explain anything.