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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
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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
Beings
Common
Less
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Human
Snobs
Humans
Snob
Trying
Alike
Pretend
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when man determined to destroy himself he picked the was of shall and finding only why smashed it into because.
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Buffalo Bill's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death
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Equality is what does not exist among mortals.
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For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.
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i remember we all cried like the Missouri when my Uncle Sol's coffin lurched because somebody pressed a button (and down went my uncle Sol and started a worm farm)
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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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twice I have lived forever in a smile
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Nothing recedes like progress.
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yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds
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It takes three to make a child.
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Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.
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the poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople... you and i are human beings mostpeople are snobs.
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someones married their everyones laughed their cryings and did their dance (sleep wake hope and then) they said their nevers they slept their dream
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I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness
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i do not know what it is about you that closes and opensonly something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
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Now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened.
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I spill my bright incalculable soul
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Every artist's strictly illimitable country is himself. An artist who plays that country false has committed suicide and even a good lawyer cannot kill the dead. But a human being who's true to himself - whoever himself may be - is immortal and all the atomic bombs of all the antiartists in spacetime will never civilize immortality.
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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