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It may take two people to make a really beautiful mistake.
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
Mistake
Beautiful
Two
May
Take
Really
Make
People
More quotes by e. e. cummings
An artist, a man, a failure, must proceed.
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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
And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
e. e. cummings
our can'ts were born to happen our mosts have died in more
e. e. cummings
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
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
I spill my bright incalculable soul
e. e. cummings
The sweet small clumsy feet of april came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
e. e. cummings
Always it’s Spring)and everyone’s in love and flowers pick themselves.
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
who pays any attention to the syntax of things will never wholly kiss you
e. e. cummings
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
e. e. cummings
Nothing recedes like progress.
e. e. cummings
i do not know what it is about you that closes and opensonly something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
e. e. cummings
What if a dawn of a doom of a dream bites this universe in two, peels forever out of his grave, and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
e. e. cummings
It is with roses and locomotives (not to mention acrobats Spring electricity Coney Island the 4th of July the eyes of mice and Niagara Falls) that my poems are competing.
e. e. cummings
And still the mad magnificent herald Spring assembles beauty from forgetfulness with the wild trump of April:witchery of sound and odour drives the wingless thing man forth in the bright air.
e. e. cummings
At least the Pilgrim Fathers used to shoot Indians: the Pilgrim Children merely punch time clocks.
e. e. cummings
in the street of the sky night walks scattering poems
e. e. cummings
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
