For it is not for what I have put into it that I have written this book, / Nor is it by reading it you will acquire it, / Nor do those know me best who admire me and vauntingly praise me, / Nor will the candidates for my love (unless at most a very few) prove victorious, / Nor will my poems do good only, they will do just as much evil, perhaps more, / For all is useless without that which you may guess at many times and not hit, that which I hinted at; / Therefore release me and depart on your way.
Walt Whitman.