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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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
Ancient
Dignity
Embodies
Child
Rite
Simple
Bowl
Children
Bowls
Fascination
Milk
Drinking
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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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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The marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading Keep Off.
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It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life
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A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
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Tell me if the lovers are losers... tell me if any get more than the lovers.
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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
Carl Sandburg
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 tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
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Who else speaks for the Family of Man? They are in tune and step with constellations of universal law.
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The scholars and poets of an earlier time can be read only with a dictionary to help.
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I have always felt that a woman has the right to treat the subject of her age with ambiguity until, perhaps, she passes into the realm of over ninety. Then it is better she be candid with herself and with the world.
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Why does a hearse horse snicker, hauling a lawyer away?
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What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
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The people know what the land knows.
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POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path, matched up with foam-flanked horses, bloody knuckles, and bones, on the hard ways to the stars.
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I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.
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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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Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
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