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People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.
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
Helping
Stories
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Happened
Better
Clear
Way
Lying
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People
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More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky - or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Carl Sandburg
Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
Carl Sandburg
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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An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
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Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
Carl Sandburg
Tell me if the lovers are losers... tell me if any get more than the lovers.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
I am the people the mob the crowd the mass. Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?
Carl Sandburg
There is an eagle in me that wants to soar.
Carl Sandburg
The greatest certainty in life is death. The greatest uncertainty is the time.
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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
Carl Sandburg
We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
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The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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Often I look back and see that I had been many kinds of a fool-and that I had been happy in being this or that kind of fool.
Carl Sandburg
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
Carl Sandburg