Carl Sandburg (1878–1967) was an American poet, biographer, historian, and folklorist. Remembered best as America’s great “Poet of the People,” Sandburg wrote verse that reflected down-to-earth industrial America.
Born in Galesburg, Illinois, of Swedish descent, Sandburg first tried various occupations and fought in the Spanish-American war. After studying (but not graduating) at Lombard College, he became a journalist for the Chicago Daily News.
Strongly influenced by Walt Whitman, Sandberg’s poetry reflected down-to-earth industrial America—it made an instant and favorable impression. His first volume of poetry was Chicago Poems (1916.) Other collections include Cornhuskers (1918,) Smoke and Steel (1920,) Good Morning, America (1928) and The People, Yes (1936.)
Sandburg also won Pulitzer Prizes for his Complete Poems (1950,) and for Abraham Lincoln: The War Years (1939,) part of his magnificent six-volume biography of Lincoln. Sandburg also published a collection of American folk songs and ballads in The American Songbag (1927.)
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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
If she America forgets where she came from, if the people lose sight of what brought them along, if she listens to the deniers and mockers, then will begin the rot and dissolution.
—Carl Sandburg
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.
—Carl Sandburg
Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
—Carl Sandburg
Pile the bodies high at Austerlitz and Waterloo. Shovel them under and let me workI am the grass; I cover all. And pile them high at GettysburgAnd pile them high at Ypres and Verdun. Shovel them under and let me work. Two years, ten years, and passengers ask the conductor:What place is this?Where are we now?I am the grass. Let me work.
—Carl Sandburg
Who put up that cage? Who hung it up with bars, doors? Why do those on the inside want to get out? Why do those outside want to get in? What is this crying inside and out all the time? What is this endless, useless beating of baffled wings at these bars, doors, this cage?
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Faith
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
Topics: Time Management, Living, Time
Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and you can look out of the window and see the blue sky — or the answer is wrong and you have to start over and try again and see how it comes out this time.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Mathematics
Money is power, freedom, a cushion, the root of all evil, the sum of blessings.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Money
Life is like an onion: You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Life
Poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Poets, Poetry, One liners
The time for action is now. It’s never too late to do something.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Procrastination, Time Management, Action
The past is a bucket of ashes, so live not in your yesterdays, nor just for tomorrow, but in the here and now. Keep moving and forget the post-mortems. And remember, no one can get the jump on the future.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: The Present, Past, Virtue, The Past, Past and Present
A baby is God’s opinion that life should go on.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: One liners, Babies, Opinion, God
A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Family
Shakespeare, Leonardo Da Vinci, Benjamin Franklin, and Lincoln never saw a movie, heard a radio, or looked at a TV. They had loneliness and knew what to do with it. They were not afraid of being lonely because they knew that was when the creative mood in them would mark.
—Carl Sandburg
Topics: Solitude
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