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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.
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
Played
Tired
Break
Littles
Little
Things
Fondest
Think
Toys
Thinking
Broke
More quotes by e. e. cummings
We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.
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You shall above all things be glad and young.
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Humanity I love you because when you're hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink.
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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
e. e. cummings
since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid
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So far as I am concerned, poetry and every other art was, is, and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality.
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wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are a far better fate than wisdom lady i swear by all flowers.
e. e. cummings
Buffalo Bill's defunct
e. e. cummings
And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms
e. e. cummings
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you
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our can'ts were born to happen our mosts have died in more
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Really unreal world, will you perhaps do the breathing for me while I am away?
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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.
e. e. cummings
Life ,for eternal us,is now
e. e. cummings
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
We can never be born enough.
e. e. cummings
somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
e. e. cummings
-tomorrow is our permanent address and there they’ll scarcely find us(if they do, we’ll move away still further:into now
e. e. cummings
The sensual mysticism of entire vertical being.
e. e. cummings
If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.
e. e. cummings
