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- Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
E. E. CUMMINGS
- black
- grey
- blue
- red
- brown
- white
Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
-
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 -
Sweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love.
E. E. CUMMINGSSweet springtime is my time is your time is our time for springtime is love time and viva sweet love.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Trust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.
E. E. CUMMINGSTrust your heart if the seas catch fire, live by love though the stars walk backward.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
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. CUMMINGSAmerica 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 -
Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGSHere’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
E. E. CUMMINGSI’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGSNotice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
A poet is someone who is abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement. Which is to say the highest form of concentration possible: fascination; to report on the electrifying experience of being.
E. E. CUMMINGSA poet is someone who is abnormally fond of that precision which creates movement. Which is to say the highest form of concentration possible: fascination; to report on the electrifying experience of being.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGSMay my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
E. E. CUMMINGSAlways the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
The first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe first step to expanding your reality is to discard the tendency to exclude things from possibility.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
To be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
E. E. CUMMINGSTo be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
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. 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. CUMMINGS -
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.
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. CUMMINGS -
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. 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. CUMMINGS -
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. 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. CUMMINGS


