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

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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life
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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
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Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.
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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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We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
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And those who say, I'll try anything once, often try nothing twice, three times, arriving late at the gate of dreams worth dying for.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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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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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.
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Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.
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Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.
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People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.
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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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Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say, 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?'
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Hog butcher for the world, Tool maker, stacker of wheat, Player with railroads and the nation's freight handler Stormy, husky, brawling, City of big shoulders.
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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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If I added to their pride of America, I am happy.
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