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Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.

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
Writing
Keepsakes
Invisible
Poetry

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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There are some people who can receive a truth by no other way than to have their understanding shocked and insulted.
Carl Sandburg
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Nothing happens... but first a dream.
Carl Sandburg
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A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
Carl Sandburg
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The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
Carl Sandburg
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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
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Carl Sandburg
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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
Carl Sandburg
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There is no song to your singing.
Carl Sandburg
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Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
Carl Sandburg
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Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
Carl Sandburg
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Carl Sandburg
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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
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There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
Carl Sandburg
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I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
Carl Sandburg
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POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
Carl Sandburg