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Nothing recedes like progress.
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
Recedes
Progress
Nothing
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More quotes by e. e. cummings
Unbeing dead isn't being alive.
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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.
e. e. cummings
Art is a mystery. A mystery is something immeasurable.
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one pierced moment whiter than the rest -turning from the tremendous lie of sleep i watch the roses of the day grow deep.
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And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
e. e. cummings
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--
e. e. cummings
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
When god decided to invent everything he took one reath bigger than a circustent and everything began
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Humanity I love you because when you're hard up you pawn your intelligence to buy a drink.
e. e. cummings
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It's always our self we find in the sea.
e. e. cummings
There is no music unless the drum and the drummer are one.
e. e. cummings
guilt is the cause of more marauders than history's most obscene disauders
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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?
e. e. cummings
since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid
e. e. cummings
All ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
e. e. cummings
Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
e. e. cummings
there's time for laughing and there's time for crying— for hoping for despair for peace for longing —a time for growing and a time for dying: a night for silence and a day for singing but more than all(as all your more than eyes tell me)there is a time for timelessness
e. e. cummings
So far as I am concerned, poetry and every other art was, is, and forever will be strictly and distinctly a question of individuality.
e. e. cummings
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.
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
