Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split the boulder. Carl Sandburg More Quotes by Carl Sandburg More Quotes From Carl Sandburg There is only one man in the world and his name is All Men. There is only one woman in the world and her name is All Women. There is only one child in the world and the child's name is All Children. Carl Sandburg namesmenchildren Not often in the story of mankind does a man arrive on earth who is both steel and velvet, who is as hard as rock and soft as drifting fog, who holds in his heart and mind the paradox of terrible storm and peace unspeakable and perfect. Carl Sandburg heartmenpeace It was here we turned the coffee cups upside down. And your eyes and the moon swept the valley. Carl Sandburg coffeeeyemoon I glory in this world of men and women, torn with troubles, yet living on to love and laugh through it all. Carl Sandburg laughingmenworld Poetry is a sequence of dots and dashes, spelling depths, crypts, cross-lights, and moon wisps. Carl Sandburg depthlightmoon The simple dignity of a child drinking a bowl of milk embodies the fascination of an ancient rite. Carl Sandburg simpledrinkingchildren Tell me if the lovers are losers... tell me if any get more than the lovers. Carl Sandburg loserloversifs 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 walleyedream The greatest cunning is to have none at all. Carl Sandburg intelligencecompetitionintegrity I am! I have come through! I belong! Carl Sandburg birth What is there more of in the world than anything else? Ends. Carl Sandburg endsworld Freedom is baffling: men having it often know not they have it till it is gone and they no longer have it. Carl Sandburg freedomgonemen His books were part of him. Each year of his life, it seemed, his books became more and more a part of him. This room, thirty by twenty feet, and the walls of shelves filled with books, had for him the murmuring of many voices. In the books of Herodotus, Tacitus, Rabelais, Thomas Browne, John Milton, and scores of others, he had found men of face and voice more real to him than many a man he had met for a smoke and a talk. Carl Sandburg wallrealbook I have in later years taken to Euclid, Whitehead, Bertrand Russell, in an elemental way. Carl Sandburg takenliteratureyears Poetry is a diary kept by a sea creature who lives on land and wishes he could fly. Carl Sandburg landwishsea Time is a sandpile we run our fingers in. Carl Sandburg fingersrunning Lay me on an anvil, O God. Carl Sandburg hammerssteelprayer The woman named Tomorrow Carl Sandburg teethtomorrow The impact of television on our culture is just indescribable. Carl Sandburg impactculturetelevision Tongues wrangled dark at a man. Carl Sandburg solitudedarkmen
