| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - Your stale modesties, he says, are filthy to such a man as I.I believe in the flesh and the appetites,Seeing, hearing, and feeling are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle.I do not press my finger across my mouth,I keep as delicate around the bowels as around the head and heart.No sniveller, or tea-drinking poet, no puny clawback or prude, is Walt Whitman.
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