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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
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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
Cities
Balloon
Pretty
Balloons
People
Keen
Sky
Filled
Moon
City
Coming
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Lessons hide in his wrinkles. Bells ding in the oldness of eyes. Did he by, any chance, tell children that there are such monstrous things as peace and goodwill...a corrupter of youth no doubt.
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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.
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A wind has blown the rain away and blown the sky away and all the leaves away, and the trees stand. I think, I too, have known autumn too long.
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The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else.
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I spill my bright incalculable soul
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The sensual mysticism of entire vertical being.
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All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
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The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors is dead.
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what if a much of a which of a wind gives the truth to summer's lie bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun and yanks immortal stars awry?
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May my heart always be open to little birds, who are the secrets of living. Whatever they sing is better than to know. And if men should not hear them - then men are old.
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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)
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Take the so-called standard of living. What do most people mean by living? They don’t mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science, in its finite but unbounded wisdom, has succeeded in selling their wives.
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Spring is like a perhaps hand
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You and I are more than you and I because it's we.
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Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.
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At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
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I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
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And the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love
e. e. cummings
And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]
e. e. cummings
Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.
e. e. cummings