You and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
E. E. CUMMINGS
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.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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You and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
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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.
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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.
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Because you aren’t afraid to kiss the dirt (and consequently dare to climb the sky)
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May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
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Yours is the light by which my spirit’s born: – you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.
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And this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)
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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.
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Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear.
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Equality is what does not exist among mortals.
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You shall above all things be glad and young For if you’re young, whatever life you wear it will become you; and if you are glad whatever’s living will yourself become.
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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.
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I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
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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.
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May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS