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When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
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
Poor
Girl
Black
Midnight
Writing
Poetry
Hair
Told
Pretty
Literature
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather.
Carl Sandburg
There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.
Carl Sandburg
The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
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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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I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.
Carl Sandburg
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if the women don't get you then the whiskey must.
Carl Sandburg
Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
Carl Sandburg
Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
Carl Sandburg
The fog comes on little cat feet.
Carl Sandburg
A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
Carl Sandburg
A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.
Carl Sandburg
Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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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?'
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for.
Carl Sandburg
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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God, let me remember all good losers.
Carl Sandburg