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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

The three saddest things are the ill wanting to be well, the poor wanting to be rich, and the constant traveler saying ‘anywhere but here’.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Health Money Place Poor Rich Sad Sick Travel
Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Beyond Happiness Myself Travel
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 eyes of my eyes are opened.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Deep Eyes Myself One Liner Open
Notice the convulsed orange inch of moon perching on this silver minute of evening.
E. E. CUMMINGS

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

Born Deep People Philosophy Thinking
Twice I have lived forever in a smile.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Forever Live Myself Smile True Love
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Courage Grow Up Yourself
I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Dreams Forever God Nature Sky Spirit Thankful Tree
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
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
Be of love a little more careful than of anything.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Advice Care Deep Love Wisdom
May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Heart Live Myself Open Secret
A politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Exception Man Politics
It is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
E. E. CUMMINGS

Competition Myself Poem Rose
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

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.

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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.

Related Topics

Popular Authors

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