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Time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough.

E. E. Cummings

Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alive Yourself
One’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Deep Mathematics Oneself Wisdom
Well, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Art God Poetry Writing
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
E. E. CUMMINGS

Born Deep People Philosophy Thinking
The eyes of my eyes are opened.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Deep Eyes Myself One Liner Open
Suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Carry Flower Head Life Man Old
America makes prodigious mistakes, America has colossal faults, but one thing cannot be denied: America is always on the move. She may be going to Hell, of course, but at least she isn’t standing still.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Brave Hell Mistake Nation Patriot
I 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. CUMMINGS

Deep Eyes Myself Rose Understand Voice
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.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Fingers Flower Home Ocean Stars Thinking Tongue
Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Laughter Open Yourself
We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Believe Experience Human Listening Ourselves Reveal Risk Spirit Touch Trust Value Wonderful Worth
If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Creation Obsession Poet Writing
Listen; there’s a hell of a good universe next door: let’s go.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Goodness Let Go Listening Universe
And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Love Myself Mystery Yourself
Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Born Light Moon Myself Spirit Stars Sun
The three saddest things are the ill wanting to be well, the poor wanting to be rich, and the constant traveler saying ‘anywhere but here’.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Health Money Place Poor Rich Sad Sick Travel

Time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough.

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Time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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