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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.

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
Learning
Live
People
Blundering
Mankind

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Calling it off comes easy enough if you haven't told the girl you are smitten with her.
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Such a Big miracle in such a tiny baby. Big things often have small beginnings A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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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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Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
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Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.
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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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A politician should have three hats. One for throwing into the ring, one for talking through, and one for pulling rabbits out of if elected.
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I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn't learned a thing I didn't know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.
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A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
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The greatest cunning is to have none at all.
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Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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The people know what the land knows.
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
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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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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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I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.
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Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
Carl Sandburg