Walt Whitman Quotes

No one feels himself easy in a garden which does not look like the open country.

He lowered the window, and looked out at the rising sun. There was a ridge of ploughed land, with a plough upon it where it had been left last night when the horses were unyoked; beyond, a quiet coppice-wood, in which many leaves of burning red and golden yellow still remained upon the trees. Though the earth was cold and wet, the sky was clear, and the sun rose bright, placid, and beautiful.

What new thoughts are suggested by seeing a face of country quite familiar, in the rapid movement of the rail-road car!

I am actually looking most forward to seeing the country again. It's a wonderful town and the wilderness around there is beautiful. The falls there were an inspiration in my book My Side of the Mountain

I want the world to recognize with me the open door of every consciousness

Iowa's the worst. Iowa's just nothing, just flat as far as you can see. It's the only state in the country where you can stand on your front porch and actually watch your dog run away for three days.

There is something frank and joyous and young in the open face of the country. It gives itself ungrudgingly to the moods of the season, holding nothing back.

How does light enter a house? If the windows are open. How does light enter a human? If the door of love is open.

There are people who are genuinely upset in the Tea Party. I understand that. But that movement was funded with seed money from right-wing billionaires, the Koch brothers, and promoted on Fox News, and turned into a stocking horse for the right-wing agenda that a lot of people have been trying to push on the country for a long time.

The door could not be heard slamming; they had probably left it open, as is the custom in homes where a great misfortune has occurred.

I guess music is the one universal art form that most people can be moved by, regardless of where they come from, and for many it might be the closest they get to god, but I think taking a trip out into the country, away from the light pollution, and looking at a clear night sky is what does it best for me.

Choosing not to read is like closing an open door to paradise.

It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes and roofs of villages, on woodland crests and their aerial neighborhoods of nests deserted, on the curtained window-panes of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes and harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests.

Like many others, I'm deeply sympathetic to the huge numbers of people looking to come here today to escape suffering and poverty in their own lands. But as a country, we cannot afford to have a total open-door policy without any restrictions on entry.

Aspects of life here civility, courtesy, coziness have always bound Britons to their country . . . They are part of the British myth, along with lovely countryside, dogs and horses, rose gardens, the Armada, the Battle of Britain.

A country without a border is like a person in a house without a front door. Anybody can enter and you cannot ask anybody to leave.

We're the generous country, we're the ones that open our doors to other countries, and in many cases we get taken advantage of because of that.

You must ask for what you really want. / Don't go back to sleep. / The door is round and open. / Don't go back to sleep.

We're creating an ownership society in this country, where more Americans than ever will be able to open up their door where they live and say, welcome to my house, welcome to my piece of property.

I believe I am a work horse. I believe that that is what our country needs. We need a president who will roll up our sleeves collectively as a nation and tackle the problems that we confront.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, if you consider it uneventful to ride fifteen miles on horseback through rough country at night, frequently without benefit of roads, in company with kilted men armed to the teeth, and sharing a horse with a wounded man. At least we were not set upon by highwaymen, we encountered no wild beasts, and it didn't rain. By the standards I was becoming used to, it was quite dull.

The country has gone sane and got back to horses.

I had to drive to Minneapolis once, and went on a back road just to see the country. But there was nothing to see. It's just flat and hot, and full of corn and soybeans and hogs. Every once in a while you come across a farm or some dead little town where the liveliest thing is the flies.

I want a horse and plough, Chickens too, Just one cow, With a wistful moo.