black
grey
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Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.

E. E. Cummings

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
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
To be nobody-but-yourself – in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else – means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Battle Be Yourself Best Deep Fight Hard Human Love Night Self Stop Wisdom World
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Heart Live Myself Open Secret
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
Because you aren’t afraid to kiss the dirt (and consequently dare to climb the sky)
E. E. CUMMINGS

Afraid Dare Kiss Sky
Here’s to opening and upward… and to yourself and up with you and up with and up with laughing.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Laughter Open Yourself
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Day Laughter Oneself Wasted Time
Tomorrow is our permanent address.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Address Ourselves
Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Fear Hope Love Silence Voice
Existing’s tricky:but to live’s a gift.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Existence Gift Live Trick
It is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Competition Myself Poem Rose
I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Choice Friendship Goodness Myself Worth
And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGS

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

Appearance Minute Moon

Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.

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Unless you love someone, nothing else makes any sense.

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