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To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damned hard.
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
Work
Would
Damned
Labor
Hell
Effort
Dies
Live
Hard
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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A tough will counts. So does desire.So does a rich soft wanting.Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
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Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers.
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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
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Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
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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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Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.
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A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
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Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
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The buffaloes are gone. And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
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There is a music for lonely hearts nearly always. If the music dies down there is a silence. Almost the same as the movement of music. To know silence perfectly is to know music.
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An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, Come and find me, come and find me.
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Who else speaks for the Family of Man? They are in tune and step with constellations of universal law.
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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.
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Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
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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 opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
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By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
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