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. CUMMINGSIt is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
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. CUMMINGSYou shall above all things be glad and young.
E. E. CUMMINGSA pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
E. E. CUMMINGSTake the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
E. E. CUMMINGSThe most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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. CUMMINGSThe snow doesn’t give a soft white damn whom it touches.
E. E. CUMMINGSMay my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGSIf a poet is anybody, he is somebody to whom things made matter very little – somebody who is obsessed by Making.
E. E. CUMMINGSThe Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
E. E. CUMMINGSTwice I have lived forever in a smile.
E. E. CUMMINGSNobody loses all the time.
E. E. CUMMINGSOne’s not half two. It’s two are halves of one.
E. E. CUMMINGSExisting’s tricky:but to live’s a gift.
E. E. CUMMINGS