Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
E. E. CUMMINGSExisting’s tricky:but to live’s a gift.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
A pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence; in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near.
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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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For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea.
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.
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The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
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May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
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Love is the whole and more than all.
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I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
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To be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
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The snow doesn’t give a soft white damn whom it touches.
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Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
E. E. CUMMINGS