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What do you think has become of the young and old men? What do you think has become of the women andchildren? They are alive and well somewhere; The smallest sprouts show there is really no death, And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the end to arrest it, And ceased the moment life appeared. All goes onward and outward. . . .and nothing collapses, And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.
-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, Song Of Myself