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Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.

E. E. Cummings

Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alive 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
Existing’s tricky:but to live’s a gift.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Existence Gift Live Trick
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Heart Live Myself Open Secret
As small as a world as large as alone.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alone Deep Nature Reality Wonderful World
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
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Fear Hope Love Silence Stars Strength Strong Sun Voice
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Courage Grow Up Yourself
I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alive Darkness Eyes Myself Sun
You and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Deep Love Myself Relationship Yourself
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
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
Your head is a living forest full of songbirds.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Bird Head Live Song
As small as a world as large as alone.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Alone Deep Nature Reality Wonderful World
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 else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.

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Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.

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Popular Authors

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