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What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way.
e. e. cummings -
a man who had fallen among thieves lay by the roadside on his back dressed in fifteenthrate ideas wearing a round jeer for a hat
e. e. cummings
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i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile
e. e. cummings -
The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."
e. e. cummings -
maybe god is a child ‘s hand)very carefully bring -ing to you and to me(and quite with out crushing)the papery weightless diminutive world with a hole in it out of which demons with wings would be streaming if something had(maybe they couldn’t agree)not happened(and floating- ly int o
e. e. cummings -
All which isn't singing is mere talking... and all talking's to oneself alone but the very song of (as mountains feel and lovers) singing is silence.
e. e. cummings -
Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
e. e. cummings -
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any lifted from the no of all nothing human merely being doubt unimaginable You?
e. e. cummings
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O gouvernment francais, I think it was not very clever of You to put this terrible doll in La Ferte; for when Governments are found dead there is always a little doll on top of them, pulling and tweaking with his little hands to get back at the microscopic knife which sticks firmly in the quiet meat of their hearts.
e. e. cummings -
The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
e. e. cummings -
If at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and working and feeling, you find you've written one line of one poem, you'll be very lucky indeed.
e. e. cummings -
things which in my mind blossom will stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise appear capable of fragility and indecision
e. e. cummings -
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
e. e. cummings -
Time cannot children,poets,lovers tell- measure imagine,mystery,a kiss -not though mankind would rather know than feel
e. e. cummings
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O sweet spontaneous earth how often has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty thou answereth them only with spring.
e. e. cummings -
Do not hate or fear the artist in yourselves... Honor and love him...do not try to possess him. Trust him as nobly as you trust tomorrow. Only the artist in yourself is more truthful than the night.
e. e. cummings -
May my mind stroll about hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple and even if its sunday may i be wrong for whenever men are right they are not young
e. e. cummings -
more each particular person is(my love) alive than every world can understand and now you are and i am now and we're a mystery that will never happen again, a miracle which has never happened before and shining this our now must come to then
e. e. cummings -
i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
e. e. cummings -
a salesman is an it that stinks to please but whether to please itself or someone else makes no more difference than if it sells hate condoms education snakeoil vac uumcleaners terror strawberries democ ra(caveat emptor)cy superfluous hair
e. e. cummings
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Who knows if the moon's / a balloon, coming out of a keen city / in the sky - filled with pretty people?
e. e. cummings -
The intellectuals' chief cause of anguish are one another's works. Jacques Barzun, 1959 all ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
e. e. cummings -
here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
e. e. cummings -
Humanity i love you because you are perpetually putting the secret of life in your pants and forgetting it's there and sitting down on it and because you are forever making poems in the lap of death Humanity i hate you
e. e. cummings