Progress is a comfortable disease.
E. E. CUMMINGSProgress is a comfortable disease.
E. E. CUMMINGSTomorrow is our permanent address.
E. E. CUMMINGSTake the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
E. E. CUMMINGSAnd this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
E. E. CUMMINGSListen; there’s a hell of a good universe next door: let’s go.
E. E. CUMMINGSSuppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.
E. E. CUMMINGSA pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
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. CUMMINGSWe can never be born enough.
E. E. CUMMINGSHere is the deepest secret nobody knows. Here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide. And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)
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. CUMMINGSThe eyes of my eyes are opened.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be–
E. E. CUMMINGSYour head is a living forest full of songbirds.
E. E. CUMMINGSAnd now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGSI fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
E. E. CUMMINGS