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Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
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
Lost
Waits
Two
Purple
Cross
Crosses
Yesterday
Skyline
Tomorrow
Skylines
Waiting
Haze
Forget
Forgets
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
The marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading Keep Off.
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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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Freedom is baffling: men having it often know not they have it till it is gone and they no longer have it.
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Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path, matched up with foam-flanked horses, bloody knuckles, and bones, on the hard ways to the stars.
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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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All my life I have been trying to learn to read, to see and hear, and to write.
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Carl Sandburg
I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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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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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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Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
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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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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: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.
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There is only one man in the world and his name is All Men. There is only one woman in the world and her name is All Women. There is only one child in the world and the child's name is All Children.
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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
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Often I look back and see that I had been many kinds of a fool-and that I had been happy in being this or that kind of fool.
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Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
Carl Sandburg
