e. e. cummings Quotes

may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living

Children hold spring so tightly in their brown fists-just as grownups, who are less sure of it, hold it in their hearts.

Everybody's twelve years old in an apple orchard.

Children are a wonderful gift. They have an extraordinary capacity to see into the heart of things and to expose sham and humbug for what they are.

I've always reverted to a sense of childhood, just in everyday life.

I feel like I'm five sometimes because I still enjoy myself. I enjoy what I do.

I think childhood is to everyone a lost land.

It's a pleasant thing to be young, and have ten toes.

Mud-pies gratify one of our first and best instincts. So long as we are dirty, we are pure.

When you're young you have no worries, no drama, only your imagination. It's the best!

The happiest days of my youth were when my brother and I would run through the woods and feel quite safe.

When you're a kid, you should be a kid.

Success, for me, is being able to wake up in the morning and feel like a 12 year old.

'In Ear Park' perfectly encapsulates the beauty of youth for me.

I remember how much fun it was to be a child in the kibbutz.

We learn many things from children, always.

Come clean with a child heart Laugh as peaches in the summer wind Let rain on a house roof be a song Let the writing on your face be a smell of apple orchards on late June.

In the woods too, a man casts off his years, as the snake his slough, and at what period soever of life, is always a child. In the woods, is perpetual youth.

When we were children we were errant enough to wish to be birds for the day but there's nothing easier to lose than playfulness.

Pan, who and what art thou?" he cried huskily. "I'm youth, I'm joy," Peter answered at a venture, "I'm a little bird that has broken out of the egg.

Aching familiar in a way that made me wish I was still eight. Eight was before death or divorce or heartbreak. Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.

Beginnings start without shade,Thinner than minnows.The live grass whirls with the sun,Feet run over the simple stones,There's time enough.Behold, in the lout's eye, love.

O how blessed it would be never to marry, or grow old; but to spend one's life innocently and indifferently among the trees and rivers which alone can keep one cool and childlike in the midst of the troubles of the world!

Be a child again. Flirt. Giggle. Dip your cookies in your milk. Take a nap. Say you're sorry if you hurt someone. Chase a butterfly. Be a child again.

How can the bird that is born for joy Sit in a cage and sing? How can a child, when fears annoy, But droop his tender wing, And forget his youthful spring?