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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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
Fading
Swift
Horizon
Explanation
Series
Poetry
Life
Horizons
Explanations
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.
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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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Tongues wrangled dark at a man. He buttoned his overcoat and stood alone. In a snowstorm, red hollyberries, thoughts, he stood alone.
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The greatest cunning is to have none at all.
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The fog comes on little cat feet.
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Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in.
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Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
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The people know what the land knows.
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Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
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Freedom is baffling: men having it often know not they have it till it is gone and they no longer have it.
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I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.
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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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By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
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I am! I have come through! I belong!
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Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
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Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?
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