black
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Tomorrow is our permanent address.

E. E. Cummings

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
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
E. E. CUMMINGS

Born Deep People Philosophy Thinking
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
Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
E. E. CUMMINGS

Born Deep People Philosophy Thinking
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. CUMMINGS

Bird Heart Live Man Old Secret Sing
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Courage Grow Up Yourself
Lovers alone wear sunlight.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alone Deep Love One Liner Sun
You and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Deep Love Myself Relationship Yourself
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
Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Appearance Minute Moon
Remember 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. CUMMINGS

Alive Destiny Determination Inspirational Motivational Remember 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
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Heart Live Myself Open Secret
Equality is what does not exist among mortals.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Equality Existence Mortal
The symbol of all art is the Prism. The goal is unrealism. The method is destructive. To break up the white light of objective realism, into the secret glories which it contains.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Art Break Deep Destruction Glory Goal Light Reality Secret White
Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alive Death Deep One Liner
A politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Exception Man Politics
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
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
Suppose Life is an old man carrying flowers on his head.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Carry Flower Head Life Man Old
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
Progress is a comfortable disease.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Comfortable One Liner Progress Sick
Here 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. CUMMINGS

Deep Growth Hope Life Love Mindset Myself Relationship Secret Sky Soul Tree
As small as a world as large as alone.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alone Deep Nature Reality Wonderful World
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. CUMMINGS

Deep Eyes Myself Rose Understand Voice
You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Break Myself Play Thinking Toy
I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Bird Choice Dance Learning Myself Sing Stars Teaching

Tomorrow is our permanent address.

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Tomorrow is our permanent address.

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