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For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.
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
Loses
Fishing
Whatever
Beach
Water
Fishes
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Boat
Find
Rivers
Self
Sea
Always
Ocean
Like
Lose
Lakes
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The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
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O sweet spontaneous earth
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you shall above all things be glad and young For if you're young,whatever life you wear it will become youand if you are glad whatever's living will yourself become.
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Private property began the instant somebody had a mind of his own.
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a man who had fallen among thieves lay by the roadside on his back dressed in fifteenthrate ideas wearing a round jeer for a hat
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Damn everything but the circus! ...damn everything that is grim, dull, motionless, unrisking, inward turning, damn everything that won't get into the circle, that won't enjoy. That won't throw it's heart into the tension, surprise, fear and delight of the circus, the round world, the full existence.
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the other guineahen died of a broken heart and we came to New York. I used to sit at a table,drawing wings with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept remembering how your mind looked when it slept for several years,to wake up asking why. So then you turned into a photograph of somebody who’s trying not to laugh at somebody who’s trying not to cry
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Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
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i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
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Seeming's enough for slaves of space and time - ours is the now and here of freedom. Come.
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All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
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Do not hate or fear the artist in yourselves... Honor and love him...do not try to possess him. Trust him as nobly as you trust tomorrow. Only the artist in yourself is more truthful than the night.
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Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
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And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms
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You shall above all things be glad and young.
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yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds
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it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful
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