I'd rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
E. E. CummingsRead
Who knows if the moon's / a balloon, coming out of a keen city / in the sky - filled with pretty people?
Interpretation
This quote evokes imagery and imagination, suggesting the moon may be perceived as something whimsical and delightful.
E. E. Cummings' quote playfully explores the idea of perspective and imagination, questioning the nature of reality by comparing the moon to a balloon filled with people, inviting us to envision a fantastical scene. It illustrates how art and poetry allow us to see the world in new and unexpected ways, blending the ordinary with the extraordinary and encouraging creativity in our interpretations.
In practice
A poet might use this quote to inspire creativity at a literary event.
I'd rather have two good friends, than 500,000 admirers.
I'd rather learn from one bird how to sing than to teach ten thousand stars how not to dance.
It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.
When god decided to invent everything he took one reath bigger than a circustent and everything began
The Artist is no other than he who unlearns what he has learned, in order to know himself.
Nobody else can be alive for you; nor can you be alive for anybody else.
Don't be a writer; it's a terrible way to live your life. There's nothing to be gained from it but poverty and obscurity and solitude. So if you have a taste for all those things, which means that you really are burning to do it, then go ahead and do it. But don't expect anything from anybody.
I dreamt of being a writer once I started to read. I started to write 'Bonjour Tristesse' in bistros around the Sorbonne. I finished it, I sent it to editors. It was accepted.
Christian art is the expression of the whole life of the whole person as a Christian. What a Christian portrays in his art is the totality of life. Art is not to be solely a vehicle for some sort of self-conscious evangelism.
My songs are personal music, they're not communal. I wouldn't want people singing along with me. It would sound funny. I'm not playing campfire meetings. I don't remember anyone singing along with Elvis, Carl Perkins or Little Richard.
Into the street the piper stepped, Smiling first a little smile As if he knew what magic slept In his quiet pipe the while. And the piper advanced And the children followed.
Your writing", she said to me, "it's so raw. It's like a sledgehammer, and yet it has humor and tenderness. . . .
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