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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.

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
Beats
Anvils
Prayer
Spike
Hammer
Hammers
Steel
Transformation
Lays
Beat
Anvil

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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The fog comes on little cat feet.
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Poetry is a mock of a cry at finding a million dollars and a mock of a laugh at losing it.
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The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
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What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
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There is a music for lonely hearts nearly always. If the music dies down there is a silence. Almost the same as the movement of music. To know silence perfectly is to know music.
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Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
Carl Sandburg
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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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God, let me remember all good losers.
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Love your neighbor as yourself but don't take down your fence.
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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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Often I look back and see that I had been many kinds of a fool-and that I had been happy in being this or that kind of fool.
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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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Nothing happens unless first we dream.
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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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Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
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Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.
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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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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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