The past and present wilt—I have fill'd them, emptied them.And proceed to fill my next fold of the future.Listener up there! what have you to confide to me?Look in my face while I snuff the sidle of evening,(Talk honestly, no one else hears you, and I stay only a minute longer.)Do I contradict myself?Very well then I contradict myself,(I am large, I contain multitudes.)I concentrate toward them that are nigh, I wait on the door-slab.Who has done his day's work? who will soonest be through with his supper?Who wishes to walk with me?Will you speak before I am gone? will you prove already too late?
Bob Dylan says the same, in a song from his latest album:
I sing the songs of experience like William BlakeI have no apologies to makeEverything’s flowin’ all at the same timeI live on the boulevard of crimeI drive fast cars and I eat fast foods . . . I contain multitudes