73 Quotes & Sayings By Ee Cummings

I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it (anywhereI go you go, my dear; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling) 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 youhere 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 growshigher 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

I like my body when it is with yourbody. It is so quite new a thing. Muscles better and nerves more.i like your body. i like what it does, i like its hows. i like to feel the spineof your body and its bones, and the trembling-firm-smooth ness and which i willagain and again and againkiss, i like kissing this and that of you, i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzzof your electric fur, and what-is-it comesover parting flesh. . And eyes big love-crumbs, and possibly i like the thrillof under me you so quite new. E.e. Cummings

Since feeling is firstwho pays any attentionto the syntax of thingswill never wholly kiss you;wholly to be a foolwhile Spring is in the worldmy blood approves, and kisses are a far better fatethan wisdomlady i swear by all flowers. Don't cry--the best gesture of my brain is less thanyour eyelids' flutter which sayswe are for eachother: thenlaugh, leaning back in my armsfor life's not a paragraph And death i think is no parenthesis . E.e. Cummings

Anyone lived in a pretty how town(with up so floating many bells down)spring summer autumn winterhe sang his didn't he danced his did Women and men(both little and small)cared for anyone not at allthey sowed their isn't they reaped their samesun moon stars rainchildren guessed(but only a fewand down they forgot as up they grewautumn winter spring summer)that noone loved him more by morewhen by now and tree by leafshe laughed his joy she cried his griefbird by snow and stir by stillanyone's any was all to hersomeones married their everyoneslaughed their cryings and did their dance(sleep wake hope and then)theysaid their nevers they slept their dreamstars rain sun moon(and only the snow can begin to explainhow children are apt to forget to rememberwith up so floating many bells down)one day anyone died i guess(and noone stooped to kiss his face)busy folk buried them side by sidelittle by little and was by wasall by all and deep by deepand more by more they dream their sleepnoone and anyone earth by aprilwish by spirit and if by yes. Women and men (both dong and ding)summer autumn winter springreaped their sowing and went their camesun moon stars rain . E.e. Cummings

Love is thicker than forgetmore thinner than recallmore seldom than a wave is wetmore frequent than to failit is most mad and moonlyand less it shall unbethan all the sea which onlyis deeper than the sealove is less always than to winless never than aliveless bigger than the least beginless littler than forgiveit is most sane and sunlyand more it cannot diethan all the sky which onlyis higher than the sky . E.e. Cummings

Who can tell truth from falsehood any more? I say it, and you feel it in your hearts:no man or woman on this big small earth. How should our sages miss the mark of life, and our most skillful players lose the game?your hearts will tell you, as my heart has told me:because all know, and no one understands. E.e. Cummings

May my heart always be open to littlebirds who are the secrets of livingwhatever they sing is better than to knowand if men should not hear them men are oldmay my mind stroll about hungryand fearless and thirsty and suppleand even if it's sunday may i be wrongfor whenever men are right they are not youngand may myself do nothing usefullyand love yourself so more than trulythere's never been quite such a fool who could failpulling all the sky over him with one smile . E.e. Cummings

Nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the colour of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (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) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands-excerpt of #35 from "100 Selected Poems . E.e. Cummings

Sweet spring is yourtime is my time is ourtime for springtime is lovetimeand viva sweet love(all the merry little birds areflying in the floating in thevery spirits singing inare winging in the blossoming)lovers go and lovers comeawandering awonderingbut any two are perfectlyalone there's nobody else alive(such a sky and such a suni never knew and neither did youand everybody never breathedquite so many kinds of yes)not a tree can count his leaveseach herself by openingbut shining who by thousands meanonly one amazing thing(secretly adoring shylytiny winging darting floatingmerry in the blossomingalways joyful selves are singing)sweet spring is yourtime is my time is ourtime for springtime is lovetimeand viva sweet love . E.e. Cummings

Humanity i love you because youare perpetually putting the secret oflife in your pants and forgettingit's there and sitting downon itand because you areforever making poems in the lapof death Humanityi hate you E.e. Cummings

Such was a poet and shall be and is-who'll solve the depths of horror to defend a sunbeam's architecture with his life: and carve immortal jungles of despair to hold a mountain's heartbeat in his hand. E.e. Cummings

If everything happens that can't be done(and anything's righterthan bookscould plan)the stupidest teacher will almost guess(with a runskiparound we go yes)there's nothing as something as oneone hasn't a why or because or although(and buds know betterthan booksdon't grow)one's anything old being everything new(with a whatwhicharound we come who)one's everyanything soso world is a leaf so tree is a bough(and birds sing sweeterthan bookstell how)so here is away and so your is a my(with a downuparound again fly)forever was never till nownow i love you and you love me(and books are shutterthan bookscan be)and deep in the high that does nothing but fall(with a shouteacharound we go all)there's somebody calling who's wewe're anything brighter than even the sun(we're everything greaterthan booksmight mean)we're everanything more than believe(with a spinleapalive we're alive)we're wonderful one times one . E.e. Cummings

There's time for laughing and there's time for crying– for hoping for despair for peace for longing –a time for growing and a time for dying: a night for silence and a day for singingbut more than all(as all your more than eyes tell me)there is a time for timelessness E.e. Cummings

Love being such, or such, the normal corners of your heartwill never guess how muchmy wonderful jealousy is dark E.e. Cummings

For every mile the feet gothe heart goes nine E.e. Cummings

It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are. E.e. Cummings

Anybody can learn to think, or believe, or know, but not a single human being can be taught to feel... the moment you feel, you're 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

Mr youse needn't be so spryconcernin questions artyeach has his tastes but as for ii likes a certain partygimme the he-man's solid blissfor youse ideas i'll match yousea pretty girl who naked isis worth a million statues E.e. Cummings

A pretty girl, who naked isis worth a million statues E.e. Cummings

To hell with literaturewe want something redblooded E.e. Cummings

May I be I is the only prayer E.e. Cummings

I thank You God for most this amazingday: for the leaping greenly spirits of treesand a blue true dream of sky; and for everythingwhich is natural which is infinite which is yes(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birthday of life and of love and wings: and of the gaygreat happening illimitably earth)how should tasting touching hearing seeingbreathing any---lifted from the noof all nothing---human merely beingdoubt unimaginably You?(now the ears of my ears awake andnow the eyes of my eyes are opened) . E.e. Cummings

How do you like your blue-eyed boy Mr Death? E.e. Cummings

L(aleaffalls)oneliness E.e. Cummings

For surely as each November has its April, mysteries only are significant; and one mystery-of-mysteries creates them all: nothing false and possible is love(who's imagined, therefore limitless)love's to giving as to keeping's give;as yes is to if, love is to yes E.e. Cummings

I fear no fate for you are my fate, my sweet. E.e. Cummings

Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can loveand who shall be continually reborn, a human being. E.e. Cummings

Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violetsdandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderfulwith eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers E.e. Cummings

I don't know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all the roses. Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands. E.e. Cummings

No time agoor else a lifewalking in the darki met christjesus)my heartflopped overand lay stillwhile he passed(asclose as i’m to youyes closermade of nothingexcept loneliness. E.e. Cummings

I don't like the memories because the tears come easily, and once again I break my promise to myself for this day. It's a constant battle. a war between remembering and forgetting. E.e. Cummings

As small as a world as large as alone. E.e. Cummings

I carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)i am never without it(anywherei go you go, my dear;and whatever is doneby only me is your doing, my darling) E.e. Cummings

It's springand the goat-footedballoon Man whistlesfarandwee E.e. Cummings

You are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing. E.e. Cummings

... (lady i willtouch you with my mind.) Touchyou, that is all/lightly and you utterly will becomewith infinite care/ the poem which i do not write. E.e. Cummings

Once we believe in ourselves, we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight, or any experience that reveals the human spirit E.e. Cummings

A politician is an arse uponwhich everyone has sat except a man 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

Only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses. Nobody, not even the rain has such small hands. E.e. Cummings

Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to most people? E.e. Cummings

Who knows if the moon'sa balloon, coming out of a keen cityin the sky--filled with pretty people?( and if you and I shouldget into it, if theyshould take me and take you into their balloon, why thenwe'd go up higher with all the pretty peoplethan houses and steeples and clouds:go sailingaway and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited, wherealways it's Spring)and everyone'sin love and flowers pick themselves . E.e. Cummings

I will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouthand leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyesto dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth masterywith chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand yearslippingflowers And set my teeth in the silver of the moon E.e. Cummings

His lips drink water but his heart drinks wine E.e. Cummings