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Art is a mystery. A mystery is something immeasurable.
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
Something
Immeasurable
Mystery
Art
More quotes by e. e. cummings
Listen there's a hell of a good universe next door: let's go.
e. e. cummings
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
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
one day anyone died i guess (and noone stooped to kiss his face) busy folk buried them side by side little by little and was by was
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
e. e. cummings
True wars are never won.
e. e. cummings
In just - Spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee
e. e. cummings
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
the other guineahen died of a broken heart and we came to New York. I used to sit at a table,drawing wings with a pencil that kept breaking and i kept remembering how your mind looked when it slept for several years,to wake up asking why. So then you turned into a photograph of somebody who’s trying not to laugh at somebody who’s trying not to cry
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
Meanwhile myself et cetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera.)
e. e. cummings
Must's a schoolroom in the month of may
e. e. cummings
As small as a world as large as alone.
e. e. cummings
Buffalo Bill's defunct who used to ride a watersmooth-silver stallion and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat Jesus he was a handsome man and what i want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death
e. e. cummings
when man determined to destroy himself he picked the was of shall and finding only why smashed it into because.
e. e. cummings
The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
e. e. cummings
An artist, a man, a failure, must proceed.
e. e. cummings
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any lifted from the no of all nothing human merely being doubt unimaginable 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
