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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
Stories
Fresh
Telling
Poetry
Morning
Waiting
Moonlit
Hours
Weaving
Story
Spider
Night
Spiders

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Yesterday and tomorrow cross and mix on the skyline. The two are lost in a purple haze. One forgets, one waits.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a series of explanations of life, fading off into horizons too swift for explanations.
Carl Sandburg
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I had taken a course in Ethics. I read a thick textbook, heard the class discussions and came out of it saying I hadn't learned a thing I didn't know before about morals and what is right or wrong in human conduct.
Carl Sandburg
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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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Poetry is a mystic, sensuous mathematics of fire, smoke-stacks, waffles, pansies, people, and purple sunsets.
Carl Sandburg
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And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is romance and big things and real dreams that never go smash.
Carl Sandburg
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I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.
Carl Sandburg
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Our lives are like a candle in the wind.
Carl Sandburg
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Carl Sandburg
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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
Carl Sandburg
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Never will a time come when the most marvelous recent invention is as marvelous as a newborn child.
Carl Sandburg
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When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.
Carl Sandburg
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And all poets love dust and mist because all the last answers. Go running back to dust and mist.
Carl Sandburg
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Here is the difference between Dante, Milton, and me. They wrote about hell and never saw the place. I wrote about Chicago after looking the town over for years and years.
Carl Sandburg
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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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The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg