One’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one.
E. E. CUMMINGSI 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.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
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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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I do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
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You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
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Laughing is just another way of showing people your wise.
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Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself.
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A pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
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Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love.
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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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Love is the whole and more than all.
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A poet is someone who is abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement. Which is to say the highest form of concentration possible: fascination; to report on the electrifying experience of being.
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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.
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Love is the whole and more than all.
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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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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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