As small as a world as large as alone.
E. E. CUMMINGSMay 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.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
-
-
Whenever you think or you believe or you know, you’re a lot of other people: but the moment you feel, you’re nobody-but-yourself.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
And now you are and I am and we’re a mystery which will never happen again.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Only by you my heart always moves.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
I fear no fate(for you are my fate, my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world, my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Most people are perfectly afraid of silence.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
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 -
A pretty girl who is naked is worth a million statues.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
For whatever we lose (like a you or a me), It’s always our self we find in the sea.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
Unbeing dead isn’t being alive.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
You and I are more than you and I because it’s we.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
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 -
Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGS -
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