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


Complete Poems [of] E. E. Commings (ed. 1963)

E. E. Cummings Quotes

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,...

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,...

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,...

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,...