the voice of your eyes is deeper than roses
Be warned, I'm feeling vaguely philosophical. I spent the past hour or so reading quotes by Kurt Vonnegut, Chuck Palihniuk, Sylvia Plath, e e cummings, J. M. Barrie, and Dr. Seuss.
I love e e cummings. I don't know how to explain it. A lot of what he says is nonsense, but its so strangely beautiful.
(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
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
But the best things in life seem to be that way, don't they? The things that are irrational. Happiness is the least logical of all the emotions, and things that insight love and happiness tend to be the hardest to define.
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