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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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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
Stills
Still
Today
Yesterday
May
Listen
Done
Tomorrow
Something
Nobody
Never
Hear
Comes
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Come on, you Do you want to live forever?
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I been a wanderin' Early and late, New York City To the Golden Gate An' it looks like I'm never gonna cease my Wanderin'.
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Nothing happens... but first a dream.
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Poetry is a dance music measuring buck-and-wing follies along with the gravest and stateliest dead-marches.
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The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite.
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Calling it off comes easy enough if you haven't told the girl you are smitten with her.
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Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.
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Time is a great teacher, Who can live without hope?
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What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
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Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
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Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
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The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
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