I have this thing for falling in love with men who died a long time ago. Jack Kerouac, James Dean, Frank Sinatra to name a few. And the latest to steal my heart: Walt Whitman. Kerouac reflects a lot of Whitman's America and ideals of the beauty of humanity in his book On the Road. I decided if I was truly going to love Kerouac, I needed to read some Whitman. As I skimmed some of his most impressive passages, I came across this one, and the full context blew me away.

"Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown, or to any man or number of men-go freely with powerful uneducated persons, and with the young, and with the mothers or families-re-examine all you have been told in school or church or in any book, and dismiss whatever insults your own soul; and your very flesh shall be a great poem, and have the richest fluency, not only in its words, but in the silent lines of its lips and face, and between the lashes of your eyes, and in every motion and joint of your body."

Beautiful. And my friends wonder why I love men who died 50-150 years ago.