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Rh comes even to the Lucifer-like conception of believing that he includes God.

But Walt Whitman is no man of a single aspect. He is a Janus of many faces, gathering in himself, like humanity, all possible characters and all possible sentiments. The Leaves of Grass, indeed, are not without instances of humility:

Extending his own humility to all mankind, he asks:

There is in Whitman something of a Prometheus and something of a Job; and if in some respects he may be called a precursor of Nietzsche, he may with equal propriety be classed on other grounds as a precursor of Dostoevsky and of Tolstoi. He never knew, probably, the “religion of human suffering,” but his great soul always felt a profound sympathy for the