The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
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. CUMMINGSAnd now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGSAs small as a world as large as alone.
E. E. CUMMINGSLove is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear.
E. E. CUMMINGSHere’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGSA pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
E. E. CUMMINGSLovers alone wear sunlight.
E. E. CUMMINGSOnly by you my heart always moves.
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. CUMMINGSMay my heart always be open to little birds, who are the secrets of living. Whatever they sing is better than to know. And if men should not hear them – then men are old.
E. E. CUMMINGSProgress is a comfortable disease.
E. E. CUMMINGSNotice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGSWhenever 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.
E. E. CUMMINGSIt is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
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