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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.
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
Men
Tongues
Stood
Red
Solitude
Tongue
Snowstorm
Thoughts
Buttoned
Alone
Snowstorms
Dark
Overcoat
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
Carl Sandburg
To never see a fool you lock yourself in your room and smash the looking-glass.
Carl Sandburg
Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
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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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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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Two bubbles found they had rainbows on their curves. They flickered out saying: It was worth being a bubble, just to have held that rainbow thirty seconds.
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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.
Carl Sandburg
I have often wondered what it is an old building can do to you when you happen to know a little about things that went on long ago in that building.
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I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
Carl Sandburg
The machine yes the machine never wastes anybody's time never watches the foreman never talks back.
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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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Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
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I am still studying verbs and the mystery of how they connect nouns. I am more suspicious of adjectives than at any other time in all my born days.
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Poetry is a section of river-fog and moving boat-lights, delivered between bridges and whistles, so one says, 'Oh!' and another, 'How?'
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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
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A tree is best measured when it is down - and so it is with people.
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Be careful with your words, once they are said, they can only be forgiven, not forgotten.
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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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An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, Come and find me, come and find me.
Carl Sandburg