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97.All I mark as my own, you shall offset it with your
own,
Else it were time lost listening to me.

98.I do not snivel that snivel the world over,
That months are vacuums, and the ground but
wallow and filth,
That life is a suck and a sell, and nothing remains at
the end but threadbare crape, and tears.

99.Whimpering and truckling fold with powders for
invalids—conformity goes to the fourth-removed,
I cock my hat as I please, indoors or out.

100.Why should I pray? Why should I venerate and be
ceremonious?
 
101.Having pried through the strata, analyzed to a hair,
counsell'd with doctors, and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.

102.In all people I see myself—none more, and not one a
barleycorn less,
And the good or bad I say of myself I say of them.

103.And I know I am solid and sound,
To me the converging objects of the universe
perpetually flow,
All are written to me, and I must get what the
writing means.

104.I know I am deathless,
I know this orbit of mine cannot be swept by a
carpenter's compass,