If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe eyes of my eyes are opened.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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If a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
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We can never be born enough.
E. E. CUMMINGSWe can never be born enough.
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Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
E. E. CUMMINGSYours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
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Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond.
E. E. CUMMINGSSomewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond.
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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.
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.
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Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.
E. E. CUMMINGSUnbeing dead isn’t being alive.
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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.
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May 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. 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.
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Laughing is just another way of showing people your wise.
E. E. CUMMINGSLaughing is just another way of showing people your wise.
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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.
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I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
E. E. CUMMINGSI’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
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Equality is what does not exist among mortals.
E. E. CUMMINGSEquality is what does not exist among mortals.
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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.
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Well, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.
E. E. CUMMINGSWell, write poetry, for God’s sake, it’s the only thing that matters.
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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.
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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


