black
grey
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Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.

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. CUMMINGS

Brave Hell Mistake Nation Patriot
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Courage Grow Up Yourself
The theory of the free press is not that the truth will be presented completely or perfectly in any one instance, but that the truth will emerge from free discussion.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Born Freedom Perfection Present Theory Truth
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
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Heart Live Myself Open Secret
Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Appearance Minute Moon
And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Love Myself Mystery Yourself
The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Artist Himself Learning Order
Most people are perfectly afraid of silence.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Afraid People Silence
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. CUMMINGS

Beyond Experience Eyes Happiness Myself Silence Touch Travel
Nobody loses all the time.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Hope Inspirational Lose One Liner Time
Great men burn bridges before they come to them.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Burn Greatness Man
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
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. CUMMINGS

Creation Existence Experience Movement Poet Possible
The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Eyes Love Relationship Rose Voice Yourself
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

Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.

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Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.

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