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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

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

Considering Language then as some
mighty potentate, into the majestic audience-hall of the monarch ever
enters a personage like one of Shakspere's clowns, and takes position
there, and plays a part even in the stateliest ceremonies. Such is
Slang, or indirection, an attempt of common humanity to escape from
bald literalism, and express itself illimitably, which in highest
walks produces poets and poems, and doubtless in pre-historic times
gave the start to, and perfected, the whole immense tangle of the old
mythologies. For, curious as it may appear, it is strictly the
same impulse-source, the same thing. Slang, too, is the wholesome
fermentation or eructation of those processes eternally active in
language, by which froth and specks are thrown up, mostly to pass
away; though occasionally to settle and permanently crystallize.
To make it plainer, it is certain that many of the oldest and solidest
words we use, were originally generated from the daring and license of
slang. In the processes of word-formation, myriads die, but here and
there the attempt attracts superior meanings, becomes valuable
and indispensable, and lives forever. Thus the term _right_ means
literally only straight. _Wrong_ primarily meant twisted, distorted.
_Integrity_ meant oneness. _Spirit_ meant breath, or flame. A
_supercilious_ person was one who rais'd his eyebrows. To _insult_ was
to leap against. If you _influenced_ a man, you but flow'd into him.
The Hebrew word which is translated _prophesy_ meant to bubble up and
pour forth as a fountain.


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