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And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]
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
Keeping
Apart
Carry
Wonder
Stars
Heart
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You and I are more than you and I because it's we.
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what if a much of a which of a wind gives the truth to summer's lie bloodies with dizzying leaves the sun and yanks immortal stars awry?
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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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Seeming's enough for slaves of space and time - ours is the now and here of freedom. Come.
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The hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be--
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Your slightest look easily will unclose me, though I have closed myself as fingers, you open petal by petal myself a Spring opens her first rose.
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how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any lifted from the no of all nothing human merely being doubt unimaginable You?
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-tomorrow is our permanent address and there they’ll scarcely find us(if they do, we’ll move away still further:into now
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Now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened.
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Lessons hide in his wrinkles. Bells ding in the oldness of eyes. Did he by, any chance, tell children that there are such monstrous things as peace and goodwill...a corrupter of youth no doubt.
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maybe god is a child ‘s hand)very carefully bring -ing to you and to me(and quite with out crushing)the papery weightless diminutive world with a hole in it out of which demons with wings would be streaming if something had(maybe they couldn’t agree)not happened(and floating- ly int o
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When god decided to invent everything he took one reath bigger than a circustent and everything began
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There is no music unless the drum and the drummer are one.
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Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
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Nothing recedes like progress.
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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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...sunlight is (life and day are)only loaned:whereas night is given(night and death and the rain are givenand given is how beautifully snow)
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You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
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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)
e. e. cummings
The world is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful.
e. e. cummings
