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Here is the difference between Dante, Milton, and me. They wrote about hell and never saw the place. I wrote about Chicago after looking the town over for years and years.

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
Never
Difference
Dante
Cities
Milton
Differences
Insulting
Hell
Chicago
Literature
Town
Looking
Towns
Place
Wrote
Years
Saws

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A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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I have always felt that a woman has the right to treat the subject of her age with ambiguity until, perhaps, she passes into the realm of over ninety. Then it is better she be candid with herself and with the world.
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Poetry is the cipher key to the five mystic wishes packed in a hollow silver bullet fed to a flying fish.
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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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Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
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A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
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You know being born is important to you. You know nothing else was ever so important to you.
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To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damned hard.
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If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.
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I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.
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Calling it off comes easy enough if you haven't told the girl you are smitten with her.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
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Life goes before we know what it is. / One fool is enough in any house. / Even God gets tired of too much hallelujah. / Take it easy and live long as brothers.
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Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
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Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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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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What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
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