Tomorrow is our permanent address.
E. E. CUMMINGSTomorrow is our permanent address.
E. E. CUMMINGSI do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be–
E. E. CUMMINGSDo 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. CUMMINGSOne’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one.
E. E. CUMMINGSSomeone 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.
E. E. CUMMINGSNotice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGSLove is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
E. E. CUMMINGSRemember one thing only: that it’s you-nobody else-who determines your destiny and decides your fate. Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
E. E. CUMMINGSA pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
E. E. CUMMINGSAnd the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love.
E. E. CUMMINGSWe can never be born enough.
E. E. CUMMINGSSomewhere 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.
E. E. CUMMINGSI thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
E. E. CUMMINGSIt is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
E. E. CUMMINGSA politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man.
E. E. CUMMINGS