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Spring is like a perhaps hand
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
Spring
Perhaps
Hand
Hope
Hands
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More quotes by e. e. cummings
The sensual mysticism of entire vertical being.
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Art is a mystery. A mystery is something immeasurable.
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nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
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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.
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a man who had fallen among thieves lay by the roadside on his back dressed in fifteenthrate ideas wearing a round jeer for a hat
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the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
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And this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart I carry your heart [ i carry it in my heart ]
e. e. cummings
guilt is the cause of more marauders than history's most obscene disauders
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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
The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else.
e. e. cummings
And the coolness of your smile is stirringofbirds between my arms
e. e. cummings
An intelligent person fights for lost causes, realizing that others are merely effects
e. e. cummings
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)
e. e. cummings
great men burn bridges before they come to them
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...sunlight is (life and day are)only loaned:whereas night is given(night and death and the rain are givenand given is how beautifully snow)
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
Damn everything but the circus! ...damn everything that is grim, dull, motionless, unrisking, inward turning, damn everything that won't get into the circle, that won't enjoy. That won't throw it's heart into the tension, surprise, fear and delight of the circus, the round world, the full existence.
e. e. cummings
Love is a place & through this place of love move (with brightness of peace) all places yes is a world & in this world of yes live (skillfully curled) all worlds
e. e. cummings
We can never be born enough.
e. e. cummings
The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
e. e. cummings