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I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.

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
Later
Literature
Taken
Years
Bertrand
Way
Euclid
Elemental
Elementals
Russell

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
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Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
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Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
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Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
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By night the skyscraper looms in the smoke and the stars and has a soul.
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The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.
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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
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When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
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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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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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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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You know being born is important to you. You know nothing else was ever so important to you.
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The people know what the land knows.
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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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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your head.
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I couldn't see myself filling some definite niche in what is called a career. This was all misty.
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
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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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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
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