Whoever makes those crackers that you eat with cheese needs to get some head for that accomplishment
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Whoever makes those crackers that you eat with cheese needs to get some head for that accomplishment
I may not be unique, funny, or in any way interesting. But you all have to serve me, so it doesn’t matter
This formidable collection [E. E. Cummings's] is going to get much praise and several prizes, and will be for many readers a veritable feast: all this year and the next, people will be rising from the book stuffed, their ribs sore with laughter, their wits sharpened with typographical puzzles, their eyes shining with big lyric tears. 'Good old Cummings!' they'll say. 'There's nobody like him.' And I will nod: it's so. And then I will sit there dumbly, a stranger at a feast which, to me, is not a feast at all but a picnic -- a picnic which goes on for yard after yard, mile after mile, of hot dogs, rat cheese, soda crackers, boiled ham curled into imitation rose petals, valentines, jokes and favors from the Jokes and Magic Shop, warm chain-store beer.
Jarrell, reviewing Cumming's Poems: 1923-1954