Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGSYou and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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The hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be–
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A pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
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A pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
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The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
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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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We can never be born enough.
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Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
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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 -
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.
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The theory of the free press is not that the truth will be presented completely or perfectly in any one instance, but that the truth will emerge from free discussion.
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And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
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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.
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You shall above all things be glad and young For if you’re young, whatever life you wear it will become you; and if you are glad whatever’s living will yourself become.
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Time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough.
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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