Quote

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
Laugh
Losing
Poetry
Mock
Laughing
Findings
Millions
Finding
Cry
Dollars
Million

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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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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The sea is always the same: and yet the sea always changes.
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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.
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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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A liar is a liar and lives on the lies he tells and dies in a life of lies.
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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.
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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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Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
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There are people who want to be everywhere at once, and they get nowhere
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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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Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
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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: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
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We had two grand antique professors who had been teaching at Lombard since before I was born.
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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
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Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
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The people will live on.The learning and blundering people will live on.
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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.
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