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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.

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
Freedom
Often
Men
Baffling
Till
Longer
Gone

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The greatest certainty in life is death. The greatest uncertainty is the time.
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I am! I have come through! I belong!
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
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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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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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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 liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
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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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Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for.
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There is no song to your singing.
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Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
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There was always the consolation that if I didn't like what I wrote I could throw it away or burn it.
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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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Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
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There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
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Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
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Somebody's little girl- how easy it is to make a sob story over who she once was and who she now is.
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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
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Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.
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