O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee ,has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty .how often have religions taken thee upon their scraggy knees squeezing and buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive gods (but true to the incomparable couch of death thy rhythmic lover thou answerest them only with spring)
e. e. cummingswholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a far better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers.
e. e. cummings-tomorrow is our permanent address and there they’ll scarcely find us(if they do, we’ll move away still further:into now
e. e. cummingsThe only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."
e. e. cummings