e. e. cummings Quotes
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The only man, woman, or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors "is dead."
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The mind is its own beautiful prisoner. Mind looked long at the sticky moon opening in dusk her new wings then decently hanged himself,one afternoon. The last thing he saw was you naked amid unnaked things.
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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.
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...sunlight is (life and day are)only loaned:whereas night is given(night and death and the rain are given;and given is how beautifully snow)
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i shall imagine life is not worth dying,if (and when)roses complain their beauties are in vain but though mankind persuades itself that every weed's a rose,roses(you feel certain)will only smile
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Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violets dandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderful with eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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All which isn't singing is mere talking... and all talking's to oneself alone but the very song of (as mountains feel and lovers) singing is silence.
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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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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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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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Time cannot children,poets,lovers tell- measure imagine,mystery,a kiss -not though mankind would rather know than feel
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Who knows if the moon's / a balloon, coming out of a keen city / in the sky - filled with pretty people?
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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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things which in my mind blossom will stumble beneath a clumsiest disguise appear capable of fragility and indecision
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maybe god is a child ‘s hand)very carefully bring -ing to you and to me(and quite with out crushing)the papery weightless diminutive world with a hole in it out of which demons with wings would be streaming if something had(maybe they couldn’t agree)not happened(and floating- ly int o
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The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
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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.
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The intellectuals' chief cause of anguish are one another's works. Jacques Barzun, 1959 all ignorance toboggans into know and trudges up to ignorance again.
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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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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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May my mind stroll about hungry and fearless and thirsty and supple and even if its sunday may i be wrong for whenever men are right they are not young
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The theory of the free press is not that the truth will be presented completely or perfectly in any one instance, but that the truth will emerge from free discussion
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how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any lifted from the no of all nothing human merely being doubt unimaginable You?