Quote

Poetry is the capture of a picture, a song, or a flair, in a deliberate prism of words.

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
Capture
Picture
Poetry
Words
Song
Prism
Prisms
Flair
Deliberate

More quotes by Carl Sandburg

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Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a steel spike.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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It is necessary now and then for a man to go away by himself and experience loneliness to sit on a rock in the forest and to ask of himself, 'Who am I, and where have I been, and where am I going?'...If one is not careful, one allows diversions to take up one's time-the stuff of life
Carl Sandburg
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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.
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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I could safely declare, I am an idealist... I believe in everything - I am only looking for proofs.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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An expert is a damn fool a long way from home.
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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Now is the time. It is never too late to start something.
Carl Sandburg
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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.
Carl Sandburg
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
Carl Sandburg
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The dead hold in their hands only what they have given away.
Carl Sandburg
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I am! I have come through! I belong!
Carl Sandburg
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What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
Carl Sandburg
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Corn wind in the fall, come off the black lands, come off the whisper of the silk hangers, the lap of the flat spear leaves.
Carl Sandburg
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Poetry is the harnessing of the paradox of earth cradling life and then entombing it.
Carl Sandburg
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I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all.
Carl Sandburg
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I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
Carl Sandburg