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. CUMMINGSThe most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
More E. E. Cummings Quotes
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The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.
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You shall above all things be glad and young.
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Tomorrow is our permanent address.
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The hardest fight a man has to fight is to live in a world where every single day someone is trying to make you someone you do not want to be–
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The snow doesn’t give a soft white damn whom it touches.
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Existing’s tricky:but to live’s a gift.
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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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The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
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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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It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
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Equality is what does not exist among mortals.
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The eyes of my eyes are opened.
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I’d rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
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I’d rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
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Time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough.
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You have played, (I think) And broke the toys you were fondest of, And are a little tired now; Tired of things that break, and— Just tired. So am I.
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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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A politician is an arse upon which everyone has sat except a man.
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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.
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Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people?
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May my heart always be open to little birds who are the secrets of living.
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Great men burn bridges before they come to them.
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Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
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It is with roses and locomotives that my poems are competing.
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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.
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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.
E. E. CUMMINGS