Walt Whitman

Stifled, O days! O lands! in every public and private corruption! Smother’d in thievery, impotence, shamelessness, mountain-high;

Brazen effrontery, scheming, rolling like ocean’s waves around and upon you, O my days! O my lands! For not even those thunderstorms, nor fiercest lightning of the war, have purified the atmosphere!; … Let the eminence of meanness, treachery, sarcasm, hate, greed, indecency, impotency, lust, be taken for granted above all! let writers, judges, governments, households, religions, philosophies, take such for granted above all!

Let the priest still play at immortality! Let death be inaugurated.

taken from Andrei Codrescu’s Zombification, p. 119