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Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.

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
Unknowable
Syllables
Barriers
Shoot
Unknown
Search
Poet
Poetry

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
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Poetry is statement of a series of equations, with numbers and symbols changing like the changes of mirrors, pools, skies, the only never-changing sign being the sign of infinity.
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So I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them: Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
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A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
Carl Sandburg
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To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damned hard.
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Nothing happens... but first a dream.
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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
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Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say, 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?'
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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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I have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
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I am! I have come through! I belong!
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What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
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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
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
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Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.
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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
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