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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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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
Wind
Silk
Land
Whisper
Fall
Lands
Black
Corn
Come
Flat
Hangers
Flats
Spear
Autumn
Spears
Leaves
Lap
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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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There is an eagle in me that wants to soar.
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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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God, let me remember all good losers.
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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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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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Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
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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.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn't learned a thing I didn't know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.
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Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
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In democracy both a deep reverence and a sense of the comic are requisite.
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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.
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Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
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Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.
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Shame is the feeling you have when you agree with the woman who loves you that you are the man she thinks you are.
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Life goes before we know what it is. / One fool is enough in any house. / Even God gets tired of too much hallelujah. / Take it easy and live long as brothers.
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An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
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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.
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Calling it off comes easy enough if you haven't told the girl you are smitten with her.
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