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The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
e. e. cummings
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e. e. cummings
Age: 67 †
Born: 1894
Born: October 14
Died: 1962
Died: September 3
Novelist
Painter
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Cambridge
Massachusetts
e. e. cummings
Edward Estlin Cummings
E. Estlin Cummings
e e cummings
EE cummings
Edward Eatlin Cummings
Mud
Summer
Spring
Wonderful
Nature
Luscious
World
Puddle
Puddles
Springtime
More quotes by e. e. cummings
I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness
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one pierced moment whiter than the rest -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
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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.
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
e. e. cummings
The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
e. e. cummings
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
e. e. cummings
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
e. e. cummings
You and I are more than you and I because it's we.
e. e. cummings
there's time for laughing and there's time for crying— for hoping for despair for peace for longing —a time for growing and a time for dying: a night for silence and a day for singing but more than all(as all your more than eyes tell me)there is a time for timelessness
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Life ,for eternal us,is now
e. e. cummings
who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you
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What if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two, peels forever out of his grave, and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
e. e. cummings
It takes three to make a child.
e. e. cummings
Because you aren't afraid to kiss the dirt (and consequently dare to climb the sky)
e. e. cummings
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
e. e. cummings
And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
e. e. cummings
I spill my bright incalculable soul
e. e. cummings
the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings mostpeople are snobs.
e. e. cummings
the other guineahen died of a broken heart and we came to New York. I used to sit at a table,drawing wings with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept remembering how your mind looked when it slept for several years,to wake up asking why. So then you turned into a photograph of somebody who’s trying not to laugh at somebody who’s trying not to cry
e. e. cummings
If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.
e. e. cummings