Quote

Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.

Carl Sandburg

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Carl Sandburg
Age: 89 †
Born: 1878
Born: January 6
Died: 1967
Died: July 22
Biographer
Historian
Journalist
Musicologist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Trade Unionist
Writer
Galesburg
Illinois
Carl August Sandburg
Possessed
Anger
Effects
Goes
Hurt
Impotent
Passion
Directed
Nothing
Hurts
Passions

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There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
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Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.
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So I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
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Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
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The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather.
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
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Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
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There is no song to your singing.
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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
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Tongues wrangled dark at a man. He buttoned his overcoat and stood alone. In a snowstorm, red hollyberries, thoughts, he stood alone.
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I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn't learned a thing I didn't know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.
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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
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Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky - or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
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I stayed away from mathematics not so much because I knew it would be hard work as because of the amount of time I knew it would take, hours spent in a field where I was not a natural.
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