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Poetry is a fresh morning spider-web telling a story of moonlit hours of weaving and waiting during a night.
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
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Fresh
Telling
Poetry
Morning
Waiting
Moonlit
Hours
Weaving
Story
Spider
Night
Spiders
More quotes by 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
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
Carl Sandburg
Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.
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Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say, 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?'
Carl Sandburg
In democracy both a deep reverence and a sense of the comic are requisite.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
Carl Sandburg
Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
Carl Sandburg
Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
Carl Sandburg
The people know what the land knows.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
Carl Sandburg
There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
Carl Sandburg
There is only one man in the world and his name is All Men. There is only one woman in the world and her name is All Women. There is only one child in the world and the child's name is All Children.
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
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
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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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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
The marvelous rebellion of man at all signs reading Keep Off.
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