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from Leaves of Grass: BOOK XXX. WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH - by Walt Whitman.

  I need no assurances, I am a man who is preoccupied of his own soul;
  I do not doubt that from under the feet and beside the hands and
      face I am cognizant of, are now looking faces I am not cognizant
      of, calm and actual faces,
  I do not doubt but the majesty and beauty of the world are latent in
      any iota of the world,
  I do not doubt I am limitless, and that the universes are limitless,
      in vain I try to think how limitless,
  I do not doubt that the orbs and the systems of orbs play their
      swift sports through the air on purpose, and that I shall one day
      be eligible to do as much as they, and more than they,
  I do not doubt that temporary affairs keep on and on millions of years,
  I do not doubt interiors have their interiors, and exteriors have
      their exteriors, and that the eyesight has another eyesight, and
      the hearing another hearing, and the voice another voice,
  I do not doubt that the passionately-wept deaths of young men are
      provided for, and that the deaths of young women and the
      deaths of little children are provided for,
  (Did you think Life was so well provided for, and Death, the purport
      of all Life, is not well provided for?)
  I do not doubt that wrecks at sea, no matter what the horrors of
      them, no matter whose wife, child, husband, father, lover, has
      gone down, are provided for, to the minutest points,
  I do not doubt that whatever can possibly happen anywhere at any
      time, is provided for in the inherences of things,
  I do not think Life provides for all and for Time and Space, but I
      believe Heavenly Death provides for all.


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