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If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.
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
Loses
Dissolution
Came
Forgets
Forget
Listens
America
Brought
People
Sight
Begin
Along
Lose
Deniers
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
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The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
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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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Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
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A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
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Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
Carl Sandburg
Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
Carl Sandburg
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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There are some people who can receive a truth by no other way than to have their understanding shocked and insulted.
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Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
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I wrote poems in my corner of the Brooks Street station. I sent them to two editors who rejected them right off. I read those letters of rejection years later and I agreed with those editors.
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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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We live in the time of the colossal upright oblong.
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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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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Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
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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
Carl Sandburg