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E. E. Cummings quotes - page 4
Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violets dandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderful with eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers.
E. E. Cummings
love being such, or such, the normal corners of your heart will never guess how much my wonderful jealousy is dark.
E. E. Cummings
Here's to opening and upward... and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. Cummings
...and down they forgot as up they grew.
E. E. Cummings
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
mr youse needn't be so spry concernin questions arty each has his tastes but as for i i likes a certain party gimme the he-man's solid bliss for youse ideas i'll match youse a pretty girl who naked is is worth a million statues.
E. E. Cummings
one pierced moment whiter than the rest -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
E. E. Cummings
we're anything brighter than even the sun.
E. E. Cummings
We doctors know a hopeless case if - listen: there's a hell of a good universe next door; let's go.
E. E. Cummings
i fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
E. E. Cummings
things which in my mind blossom will stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise appear capable of fragility and indecision.
E. E. Cummings
dreamtree,truthtree tree of jubilee:with aeons of (trivial merely)existence,all when may not measure a now of your treasure.
E. E. Cummings
There are still a few erect human beings in the socalled world. Proudly and humbly,I say to these human beings: "O my fellow citizens,many an honest man believes a lie. Though you are as honest as the day, fear and hate the liar. Fear and hate him when he should be feared and hated:now. Fear and hate him were he should be feared and hated:in yourselves. "Do not hate and fear the artist in yourselves,my fellow citizens. Honour him and love him. Love him truly- do not try to possess him. Trust him as nobly as you trust tomorrow. "Only the artist in yourselves is more truthful than the night."
E. E. Cummings
plato told him:he couldn't believe it(jesustold him;he wouldn't believe itlaotsze certainly told him,and general (yesmam) sherman; and even (believe it or not)you told him:i told him;we told him (he didn't believe it,no sir)
E. E. Cummings
poetry and every other art was and is and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality.... poetry is being, not doing.... if poetry is your goal, you've got to forget all about punishments and all about rewards and all about selfstyled obligations and duties and responsibilities...
E. E. Cummings
the axis of the universe -love.
E. E. Cummings
hugest whole creation may be less incalculable than a single kiss.
E. E. Cummings
measureless our pure living complete love whose doom is beauty and its fate to grow.
E. E. Cummings
the only man woman or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead” beautiful Warren Gamaliel Harding "is” dead he's "dead”.
E. E. Cummings
without any doubt he was whatever(first and last) most people fear most: a mystery for which iv'e no word except alive.
E. E. Cummings
no evil is so worse than worst you fall in hate with love -human one mortally immortal i can turn immense all time's because to why.
E. E. Cummings
A distinct throat. Which breathes. A head: small, smaller than a flower. With eyes and with lips. Lips more slender than light; a smile how carefully and slowly made, a smile made entirely of dream. Eyes deeper than Spring. Eyes darker than Spring, more new . . . These, these are the further miracles . . . the breasts. Thighs. The All which is beyond comprehension - the All which is perpetually discovered, yet undiscovered: sexual, sweet, Alive!
E. E. Cummings
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