e. e. cummings
e. e. cummings
Edward Estlin Cummings, known as E. E. Cummings, with the abbreviated form of his name often written by others in lowercase letters as e e cummings, was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright. His body of work encompasses approximately 2,900 poems, two autobiographical novels, four plays and several essays, as well as numerous drawings and paintings. He is remembered as an eminent voice of 20th century English literature...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth14 October 1894
CityCambridge, MA
CountryUnited States of America
Exists no miracle mightier than this: to feel.
somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence; in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near
And now you are and I am and we're a mystery which will never happen again.
Kisses are a better fate than wisdom.
my sweet old etcetera aunt lucy during the recent war could and what is more did tell you just what everybody was fighting for, my sister isabel created hundreds (and hundreds) of socks not to mention shirts fleaproof earwarmers etcetera wristers etcetera, my mother hoped that i would die etcetera bravely of course my father used to become hoarse talking about how it was a privilege and if only he could meanwhile my self etcetera lay quietly in the deep mud et cetera (dreaming, et cetera, of Your smile eyes knees and of your Etcetera)
Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you're a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you're nobody-but-yourself.
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
The snow doesn't give a soft white damn whom it touches.
twice I have lived forever in a smile
Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: - you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
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.
may my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living
It takes three to make a child.
The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.