Quote

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.

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
Friend
Harvest
Comes
Nights
Death
September
Night
Soft
Drips
Beautiful
Gray
Shimmering
Remember
Silver
Whispers
Garden
Remembers
Moon
October

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If I added to their pride of America, I am happy.
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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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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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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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I have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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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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A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
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Somebody's little girl- how easy it is to make a sob story over who she once was and who she now is.
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Nothing happens unless first we dream.
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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.
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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.
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Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
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There is only one man in the world and his name is All Men. There is only one woman in the world and her name is All Women. There is only one child in the world and the child's name is All Children.
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Poetry is statement of a series of equations, with numbers and symbols changing like the changes of mirrors, pools, skies, the only never-changing sign being the sign of infinity.
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Never will a time come when the most marvelous recent invention is as marvelous as a newborn child.
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To those who had ordered them to death, one of them said: “We die because the people are asleep and you will die because the people will awaken.”
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Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
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