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An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, Come and find me, come and find me.
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
Song
Night
Littles
Find
Little
Creepers
Come
Creeps
Heart
Ambition
Singing
More quotes by Carl Sandburg
There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
Carl Sandburg
Who else speaks for the Family of Man? They are in tune and step with constellations of universal law.
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
What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends.
Carl Sandburg
I have always felt that a woman has the right to treat the subject of her age with ambiguity until, perhaps, she passes into the realm of over ninety. Then it is better she be candid with herself and with the world.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a fossil rock-print of a fin and a wing, with an illegible oath between.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
Carl Sandburg
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.
Carl Sandburg
Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.
Carl Sandburg
In democracy both a deep reverence and a sense of the comic are requisite.
Carl Sandburg
I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
Carl Sandburg
There is no song to your singing.
Carl Sandburg
Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.
Carl Sandburg
Lips half-willing in a doorway. Lips half-singing at a window. Eyes half-dreaming in the walls. Feet half-dancing in a kitchen. Even the clocks half-yawn the hours And the farmers make half-answers.
Carl Sandburg
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
Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death.
Carl Sandburg
The people know what the land knows.
Carl Sandburg
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
There is an eagle in me that wants to soar.
Carl Sandburg
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