Quote by Walt Whitman

"The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping, The strata of color'd clouds, the long bar of maroon-tintmaroon-tint, away solitary by itself—the spread of purity it lies motionless in, The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud; These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day."

Walt Whitman, from There Was a Child Went Forth

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