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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
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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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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When skies are hanged and oceans drowned, the single secret will still be man
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I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness
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.
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If 180 million people want to be undead, that’s their funeral, but I happen to like being alive.
e. e. cummings
An intelligent person fights for lost causes, realizing that others are merely effects
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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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And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
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Now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened.
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What time is it? It is by every star a different time, and each most falsely true.
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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.
e. e. cummings
Nothing recedes like progress.
e. e. cummings
Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love.
e. e. cummings
time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough
e. e. cummings
who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you
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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.
e. e. cummings
since the thing perhaps is to eat flowers and not to be afraid
e. e. cummings
Take the so-called standard of living. What do most people mean by living? They don’t mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science, in its finite but unbounded wisdom, has succeeded in selling their wives.
e. e. cummings
Next to of course god America i / love you land of the pilgrims and so forth oh
e. e. cummings
