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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
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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
Half
Window
Dreaming
Eye
Singing
September
Dream
Wall
Farmers
Even
Feet
Walls
Make
Willing
Kitchen
Yawn
Answers
Clock
Clocks
Eyes
Lips
Doorway
Hours
Dancing
Doorways
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
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Be careful with your words, once they are said, they can only be forgiven, not forgotten.
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Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
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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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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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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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In democracy both a deep reverence and a sense of the comic are requisite.
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Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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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.
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There is an eagle in me that wants to soar.
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Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
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Life goes before we know what it is. / One fool is enough in any house. / Even God gets tired of too much hallelujah. / Take it easy and live long as brothers.
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I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
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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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Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.
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A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
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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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