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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

"Complete Prose Works Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My Fancy"

A strong mastership of the
general inferior self by the superior self, is to be aided, secured,
indirectly, but surely, by the literatus, in his works, shaping, for
individual or aggregate democracy, a great passionate body, in and
along with which goes a great masterful spirit.
And still, providing for contingencies, I fain confront the fact,
the need of powerful native philosophs and orators and bards, these
States, as rallying points to come, in times of danger, and to fend
off ruin and defection. For history is long, long, long. Shift and
turn the combinations of the statement as we may, the problem of the
future of America is in certain respects as dark as it is vast. Pride,
competition, segregation, vicious wilfulness, and license beyond
example, brood already upon us. Unwieldy and immense, who shall hold
in behemoth? who bridle leviathan? Flaunt it as we choose, athwart and
over the roads of our progress loom huge uncertainty, and dreadful,
threatening gloom. It is useless to deny it: Democracy grows rankly
up the thickest, noxious, deadliest plants and fruits of all--brings
worse and worse invaders--needs newer, larger, stronger, keener
compensations and compellers.
Our lands, embracing so much, (embracing indeed the whole, rejecting
none,) hold in their breast that flame also, capable of consuming
themselves, consuming us all. Short as the span of our national life
has been, already have death and downfall crowded close upon us--and
will again crowd close, no doubt, even if warded off.


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