Quotes About Perception

the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses

you said Is there anything which is dead or alive more beautiful than my body,to have in your fingers (trembling ever so little)? Looking into your eyes Nothing,i said,except the air of spring smelling of never and forever. ....and through the lattice which moved as if a hand is touched by a hand(which moved as though fingers touch a girl's breast, lightly) Do you believe in always,the wind said to the rain I am too busy with my flowers to believe,the rain answered

Laughing is just another way of showing people your wise

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

mr youse needn't be so spry concernin questions arty each has his tastes but as for i i likes a certain party gimme the he-man's solid bliss for youse ideas i'll match youse a pretty girl who naked is is worth a million statues

what time is it?its is by every star a different time,and each most falsely true ...

Really unreal world, will you perhaps do the breathing for me while I am away?

a pretty girl, who naked is is worth a million statues

what if a much of a which of a wind

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

nothing" the unjust man complained "is just" ("or un-" the just rejoined.

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.

how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any–lifted from the no of all nothing–human merely being doubt unimaginable You?

Because only the truest things always are true because they can't be true

Querying greys between mouthed houses curl thirstily. Dead stars stink. dawn. Inane, the poetic carcass of a girl

anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down)

if you like my poems let them walk in the evening,a little behind you then people will say "Along this road i saw a princess pass on her way to meet her lover (it was toward nightfall) with tall and ignorant servants. — E.E. Cummings, "if you like my poems let them," Etcetera: The Unpublished Poems of E.E. Cummings . Liveright February 5, 2001) Originally published 1983.

the cult of Same is all the chic; by instruments, both span and spic, are justly measured Spic and Span:

the trick of finding what you didn't lose (existing's tricky:but to live's a gift) the teachable imposture of always arriving at the place you never left (and i refer to thinking)rests upon a dismal misconception;namely that some neither ape nor angel called a man is measured by his quote eye cue unquote.

Days of Innocence 1 who are you,little i (five or six years old) peering from some high window;at the gold of november sunset (and feeling:that if day has to become night this is a beautiful way)

Cummings had in mind creations of this sort when he said, 'The day of the spoken lyric is past. The poem which has at last taken its place does not sing itself; it builds itself, three-dimensionally, gradually, subtly, in the consciousness of the experiencer.

We view the past, and achieve our understanding of the past, only through the eyes of the present

Where most people live, most of us, imagining it to be the real sunlit world when it is only a cave lit by the flickering fires of illusion.

Father looked at her and she was beautiful in the way she had been as a girl. He did not realize the pleasure he felt in having made her cry.