Quote

The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time

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
Woman
Time
Sits
Named
Teeth
Tomorrow
Takes

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.
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Be careful with your words, once they are said, they can only be forgiven, not forgotten.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
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I stayed away from mathematics not so much because I knew it would be hard work as because of the amount of time I knew it would take, hours spent in a field where I was not a natural.
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Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
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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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Nothing happens... but first a dream.
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To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damned hard.
Carl Sandburg
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I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision.
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Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
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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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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
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If I added to their pride of America, I am happy.
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Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
Carl Sandburg
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Yesterday is done. Tomorrow never comes. Today is here. If you don't know what to do, sit still and listen. You may hear something. Nobody knows.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
Carl Sandburg
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Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.
Carl Sandburg
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Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, if the women don't get you then the whiskey must.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg