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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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
Candle
Wind
Wisdom
Lives
Life
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More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
Carl Sandburg
Tongues wrangled dark at a man. He buttoned his overcoat and stood alone. In a snowstorm, red hollyberries, thoughts, he stood alone.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is statement of a series of equations, with numbers and symbols changing like the changes of mirrors, pools, skies, the only never-changing sign being the sign of infinity.
Carl Sandburg
Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
Carl Sandburg
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
Carl Sandburg
The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.
Carl Sandburg
Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
Carl Sandburg
Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.
Carl Sandburg
For we know when a nation goes down and never comes back, when a society or a civilization perishes, one condition may always be found. They forgot where they came from. They lost sight of what brought them along.
Carl Sandburg
Who else speaks for the Family of Man? They are in tune and step with constellations of universal law.
Carl Sandburg
Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say, 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?'
Carl Sandburg
It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life
Carl Sandburg
POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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?
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
The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
I been a wanderin' Early and late, New York City To the Golden Gate An' it looks like I'm never gonna cease my Wanderin'.
Carl Sandburg