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I am! I have come through! I belong!

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
Belong
Birth
Come

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.
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Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?
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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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Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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Nothing happens unless first we dream.
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Poetry is the cipher key to the five mystic wishes packed in a hollow silver bullet fed to a flying fish.
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The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
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A tough will counts. So does desire.So does a rich soft wanting.Without rich wanting nothing arrives.
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Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.
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A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
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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.
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Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
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The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.
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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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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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Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
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You know being born is important to you. You know nothing else was ever so important to you.
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Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg