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There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.
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
Always
Like
Consolation
Burn
Throw
Wrote
Literature
Away
Didn
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers.
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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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Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
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a women is like a tea bag.it's only when she is in hot water that you realize how strong she is.
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I am the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
Carl Sandburg
The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.
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Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death.
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Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
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There is a music for lonely hearts nearly always. If the music dies down there is a silence. Almost the same as the movement of music. To know silence perfectly is to know music.
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We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
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Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'
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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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What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
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Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
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An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, Come and find me, come and find me.
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I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
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