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Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
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
Allow
Spend
Others
Time
Life
Coin
Coins
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams.
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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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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.
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Tongues wrangled dark at a man. He buttoned his overcoat and stood alone. In a snowstorm, red hollyberries, thoughts, he stood alone.
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By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable.
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Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
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Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.
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Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
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Such a Big miracle in such a tiny baby. Big things often have small beginnings A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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The marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading Keep Off.
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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.
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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
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Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.
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There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
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An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
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