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The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
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
Feet
Small
Came
Meadow
Soul
Ragged
Clumsy
Meadows
April
Sweet
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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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And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
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the moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy
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Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
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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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Nothing recedes like progress.
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here is the deepest secret nobody knows (here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide) and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
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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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Let must or if be damned with whomever's afraid down with ought with because with every brain which thinks it thinks, nor dares to feel.
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O sweet spontaneous earth how often has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty thou answereth them only with spring.
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At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
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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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more each particular person is(my love) alive than every world can understand and now you are and i am now and we're a mystery that will never happen again, a miracle which has never happened before and shining this our now must come to then
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