Carl Sandburg Quotes

Here is dust remembers it was a rose
one time and lay in a woman’s hair.
Here is dust remembers it was a woman
one time and in her hair lay a rose.
Oh things one time dust, what else now is it
you dream and remember of old days? — Carl Sandburg, “Dust,” The Complete Poems of Carl Sandburg. (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; First Edition edition January 6, 2003) Originally published 1950.

I know of no task so salutory to the poet who would, first of all, put himself in touch with the resident genius of his own land.

Hog Butcher for the World, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler; Stormy, husky, brawling, City of the Big Shoulders.

Lay me on an anvil, O God. Beat me and hammer me into a crowbar. Let me pry loose old walls. Let me lift and loosen old foundations.

In these times you have to be an optimist to open your eyes when you awake in the morning

Let only the young come,
Says the sea.

Let them kiss my face
And hear me.
I am the last word
And I tell
Where storms and stars come from.

There are some people so lonely, they think God is lonely too-

Revolt and terror pay a price.
Order and law have a cost.

A tough will counts. So does desire.
So does a rich soft wanting.
Without rich wanting nothing arrives.

"…Намерението е едно такова нещо, което те гризе отвътре и ти нашепва тихо "...ела и ме намери, ела и ме намери...

I see America, not in the setting sun of a black night of despair ahead of us, I see America in the crimson light of a rising sun fresh from the burning, creative hand of God. I see great days ahead, great days possible to men and women of will and vision

Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during a moment.

"I CANNOT tell you now;
When the wind's drive and whirl
Blow me along no longer,
And the wind's a whisper at last — Maybe I'll tell you then — some other time.

When the rose's flash to the sunset
Reels to the rack and the twist,
And the rose is a red bygone,
When the face I love is going
And the gate to the end shall clang,
And it's no use to beckon or say, "So long" — Maybe I'll tell you then — some other time.

I never knew any more beautiful than you:
I have hunted you under my thoughts,
I have broken down under the wind
And into the roses looking for you.
I shall never find any
greater than you."

Here I saw a city rise and say to the peoples round world: Listen, I am strong, I know what I want.

Under the summer roses
When the flagrant crimson
Lurks in the dusk
Of the wild red leaves,
Love, with little hands,
Comes and touches you
With a thousand memories,
And asks you
Beautiful, unanswerable questions.