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The mind is its own beautiful prisoner. Mind looked long at the sticky moon opening in dusk her new wings then decently hanged himself,one afternoon. The last thing he saw was you naked amid unnaked things.
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
Beautiful
Opening
Thing
Naked
Decently
Long
Wings
Hanged
Mind
Looked
Sticky
Things
Moon
Dusk
Saws
Amid
Lasts
Prisoner
Last
Afternoon
More quotes by e. e. cummings
If at the end of your first ten or fifteen years of fighting and working and feeling, you find you've written one line of one poem, you'll be very lucky indeed.
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Nobody else can be alive for you nor can you be alive for anybody else.
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O gouvernment francais, I think it was not very clever of You to put this terrible doll in La Ferte for when Governments are found dead there is always a little doll on top of them, pulling and tweaking with his little hands to get back at the microscopic knife which sticks firmly in the quiet meat of their hearts.
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Must's a schoolroom in the month of may
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Like the burlesque comedian, I am abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement.
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There is no music unless the drum and the drummer are one.
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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An artist, a man, a failure, must proceed.
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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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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.
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Someone asked me what home was and all I could think of were the stars on the tip of your tongue, the flowers sprouting from your mouth, the roots entwined in the gaps between your fingers, the ocean echoing inside of your ribcage.
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The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
e. e. cummings
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
e. e. cummings
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
Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
e. e. cummings
At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
e. e. cummings
...and down they forgot as up they grew.
e. e. cummings
Laughing is just another way of showing people your wise
e. e. cummings
yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skilfully curled) all worlds
e. e. cummings
Listen there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go.
e. e. cummings
