in time of daffodils(who knowthe goal of living is to grow)forgetting why, remember howin time of lilacs who proclaimthe aim of waking is to dream, remember so(forgetting seem)in time of roses(who amazeour now and here with paradise)forgetting if, remember yesin time of all sweet things beyondwhatever mind may comprehend, remember seek(forgetting find)and in a mystery to be(when time from time shall set us free)forgetting me, remember me
E. E. CummingsAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: October 14, 1894
- Died: September 3, 1962
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[S]ome score of members of the High Court of Chancery bar ought to be --- as here they are --- mistily engaged in one of the ten thousand stages of an endless cause, tripping one another up on slippery precedents, groping knee-deep in technicalities, running their goat-hair and horse-hair warded heads against walls of words, and making a pretence of equity with serious faces ....
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Life is, in fact, a battle. Evil is insolent and strong; beauty enchanting, but rare; goodness very apt to be weak; folly very apt to be defiant; wickedness to carry the day; imbeciles to be in great places, people of sense in small, and mankind generally unhappy. But the world as it stands is no narrow illusion, no phantasm, no evil dream of the night; we wake up to it, forever and ever; and we can neither forget it nor deny it nor dispense with it.
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