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All my life I have been trying to learn to read, to see and hear, and to write.
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
Hear
Read
Learn
Write
Book
Writing
Trying
Life
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
There is no song to your singing.
Carl Sandburg
Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.
Carl Sandburg
Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
Carl Sandburg
The greatest cunning is to have none at all.
Carl Sandburg
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist.
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Nothing happens... but first a dream.
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Carl Sandburg
The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
Carl Sandburg
POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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
Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky - or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
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Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.
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Nothing happens unless first we dream.
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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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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Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
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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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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
Carl Sandburg