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So, when kiss Spring comes we'll kiss each kiss other on kiss the kiss lips because tic clocks tock don't make a toctic difference to kisskiss you and to kiss me.

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
Difference
Tock
Differences
Tics
Comes
Clocks
Make
Kiss
Clock
Kissing
Lips
Spring

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Well, write poetry, for God's sake, it's the only thing that matters.
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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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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i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
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Humanity I love you because when you're hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink.
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We can never be born enough.
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yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds
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...remember one thing only: that it's you-nobody else-who determines your destiny and decides your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you nor can you be alive for anybody else.
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Next to of course god America i / love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh
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Seeming's enough for slaves of space and time - ours is the now and here of freedom. Come.
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Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
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i do not know what it is about you that closes and opensonly something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
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XVII Lady, i will touch you with my mind. Touch you and touch and touch until you give me suddenly a smile,shyly obscene (lady i will touch you with my mind.)Touch you,that is all, lightly and you utterly will become with infinite care the poem which i do not write.
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nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility
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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.
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twice I have lived forever in a smile
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The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
e. e. cummings
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the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy
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all nothing's only our hugest home the most who die, the more we live
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The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
e. e. cummings