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Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if the women don't get you then the whiskey must.
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
Women
Must
Whiskey
Ashes
Dust
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
So I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Carl Sandburg
Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
Carl Sandburg
I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
Carl Sandburg
Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
Carl Sandburg
Be careful with your words, once they are said, they can only be forgiven, not forgotten.
Carl Sandburg
Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Carl Sandburg
Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.
Carl Sandburg
Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
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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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Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
Carl Sandburg
To those who had ordered them to death, one of them said: “We die because the people are asleep and you will die because the people will awaken.”
Carl Sandburg
The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
Carl Sandburg
A tough will counts. So does desire.So does a rich soft wanting.Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
Carl Sandburg
The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
Carl Sandburg