EtiquetaWhitman

What am I, after all, but a child, pleas’d with the sound of my own name? repeating it over and over; I stand apart to hear—it never tires me. To you, your name also; Did you think there was nothing but two or three pronunciations in the sound of your name? Walt Whitman (1819–1892). Leaves of Grass.  1900. [email_link]