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one pierced moment whiter than the rest -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
e. e. cummings
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e. e. cummings
Age: 67 †
Born: 1894
Born: October 14
Died: 1962
Died: September 3
Novelist
Painter
Playwright
Poet
Writer
Cambridge
Massachusetts
e. e. cummings
Edward Estlin Cummings
E. Estlin Cummings
e e cummings
EE cummings
Edward Eatlin Cummings
Deep
Whiter
Grow
Pierced
Rest
Roses
Grows
Tremendous
Sleep
Turning
Lying
Rose
Moment
Watches
Moments
Watch
More quotes by e. e. cummings
It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.
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Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
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Whatever's merely willful, and not miraculous (be never it so skilful) must wither fail and cease - but better than to grow beauty knows no.
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Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.
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nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
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We can never be born enough.
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Nobody else can be alive for you nor can you be alive for anybody else.
e. e. cummings
The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors is dead.
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in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
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All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
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it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
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In just - Spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee
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the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
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And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air.
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If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.
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I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
e. e. cummings
Private property began the instant somebody had a mind of his own.
e. e. cummings
Art is a mystery. A mystery is something immeasurable.
e. e. cummings
it's no use trying to pretend that mostpeople and ourselves are alike. Mostpeople have less in common with ourselves than thesquarerootofminusone. You and I are human beings mostpeople are snobs.
e. e. cummings
The sensual mysticism of entire vertical being.
e. e. cummings
