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It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.
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
Falls
July
Rose
Mice
Spring
Mention
Poet
Electricity
Coney
Eyes
Island
Acrobats
Eye
Competing
Locomotives
Fall
Poems
Niagara
Islands
Roses
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An intelligent person fights for lost causes, realizing that others are merely effects
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Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
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Whatever's merely willful, and not miraculous (be never it so skilful) must wither fail and cease - but better than to grow beauty knows no.
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We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.
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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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Only by you my heart always moves.
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the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
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For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.
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(existing's tricky:but to live's a gift)
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And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms
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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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Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
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Listen there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go.
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nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
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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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If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.
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All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
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in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
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someones married their everyones laughed their cryings and did their dance (sleep wake hope and then) they said their nevers they slept their dream
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