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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.
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
Dollars
Million
Laugh
Losing
Poetry
Mock
Laughing
Findings
Millions
Finding
Cry
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
Carl Sandburg
Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
Carl Sandburg
I remember in my early 20s when I felt I couldn't live past 30. I was learning how to write. I had a lot of hard work ahead of me.
Carl Sandburg
Who am I, where have I been, and where am I going?
Carl Sandburg
To never see a fool you lock yourself in your room and smash the looking-glass.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Faith is indispensable, and the world at times does not seem to have quite enough of it. It can and has accomplished what seems to be the impossible. Wars have been started and men and nations lost for the lack of it. Faith starts from the individual and builds men and nations. America was built by and on the faith of our ancestors.
Carl Sandburg
Be careful with your words, once they are said, they can only be forgiven, not forgotten.
Carl Sandburg
And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.
Carl Sandburg
We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Carl Sandburg
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
Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
Carl Sandburg