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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?'

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
River
Boat
Whistles
Rivers
Fog
Poetry
Delivered
Says
Section
Moving
Sections
Another
Lights
Light
Bridges

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Poetry is a slipknot tightened around a time-beat of one thought, two thoughts, and a last interweaving thought there is not yet a number for.
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People lie because they don't remember clear what they saw. People lie because they can't help making a story better than it was the way it happened.
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I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.
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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable.
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To never see a fool you lock yourself in your room and smash the looking-glass.
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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.
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Nothing happens unless first we dream.
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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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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
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The fog comes on little cat feet.
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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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Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
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Poetry is a plan for a slit in the face of a bronze fountain goat and the path of fresh drinking water.
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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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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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