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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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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
Smoke
Pansies
Mathematics
Waffles
Poetry
Stacks
Fire
Sunsets
People
Sensuous
Mystic
Purple
Sunset
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
Poetry is any page from a sketchbook of outlines of a doorknob with thumb-prints of dust, blood, dreams.
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I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way.
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I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
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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.
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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I had been keeping an off eye on the advertising field, thinking I might become an idea man and a copywriter.
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Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path, matched up with foam-flanked horses, bloody knuckles, and bones, on the hard ways to the stars.
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Time is the coin of our live. We must take care how we spend it.
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The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
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An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
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The fog comes on little cat feet.
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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.
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The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable.
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Poetry is a sky dark with a wild-duck migration.
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A liar goes in fine clothes, a liar goes in rags, a liar is a liar, clothes or no clothes.
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Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
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In democracy both a deep reverence and a sense of the comic are requisite.
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Man is a long time coming. Man will yet win. Brother may yet line up with brother: This old anvil laughs at many broken hammers.There are men who can't be bought.
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If [America] forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.
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