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Such a Big miracle in such a tiny baby. Big things often have small beginnings A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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
Life
Tiny
Miracle
Baby
Opinion
Small
Bigs
Often
Newborn
Things
Beginnings
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
Carl Sandburg
Shame is the feeling you have when you agree with the woman who loves you that you are the man she thinks you are.
Carl Sandburg
Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
Carl Sandburg
Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
Carl Sandburg
A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
Carl Sandburg
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Carl Sandburg
The greatest certainty in life is death. The greatest uncertainty is the time.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
The buffaloes are gone. And those who saw the buffaloes are gone.
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
Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
Carl Sandburg
Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.
Carl Sandburg
Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds.
Carl Sandburg
The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path, matched up with foam-flanked horses, bloody knuckles, and bones, on the hard ways to the stars.
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Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
Carl Sandburg
All my life I have been trying to learn to read, to see and hear, and to write.
Carl Sandburg
To never see a fool you lock yourself in your room and smash the looking-glass.
Carl Sandburg