And how should a beautiful, ignorant stream of water know it heads for an early release - out across the desert, running toward the Gulf, below sea level, to murmur its lullaby, and see the Imperial Valley rise out of burning sand with cotton blossoms, wheat, watermelons, roses, how should it know?
- Carl Sandburg - In Nature
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Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split the boulder.
- Carl Sandburg - In Nature
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Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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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.
- Carl Sandburg - In Poetry
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In these times you have to be an optimist to open your eyes when you awake in the morning.
- Carl Sandburg - In Society
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Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
- Carl Sandburg - In Time
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Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
- Carl Sandburg - In War
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