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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.

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
Science
Ideas
Reason
Men
Vanishes
Vanish

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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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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Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.
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I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.
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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
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Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
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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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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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Shame is the feeling you have when you agree with the woman who loves you that you are the man she thinks you are.
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Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
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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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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
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Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers.
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A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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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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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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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
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The people know what the land knows.
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