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Tell Him Solitude Is Creative If He Is Strong And The Final Decisions Are Made In Silent Rooms. Tell Him To Be Different From Other People If It Comes Natural And Easy Being Different. Let Him Have Lazy Days Seeking His Deeper Motives. Let Him Seek Deep For Where He Is A Born Natural. Then He May Understand Shakespeare And The Wright Brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov, Michael Faraday And Free Imaginations Bringing Changes Into A World Resenting Change. He Will Be Lonely Enough To Have Time For The Work He Knows As His Own.

-Carl Sandburg

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Tell Him Solitude Is

Carl Sandburg

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Tell Him Solitude Is Creative If He Is Strong And The Final Decisions Are Made In Silent Rooms. Tell Him To Be Different From Other People If It Comes Natural And Easy Being Different. Let Him Have Lazy Days Seeking His Deeper Motives. Let Him Seek Deep For Where He Is A Born Natural. Then He May Understand Shakespeare And The Wright Brothers, Pasteur, Pavlov, Michael Faraday And Free Imaginations Bringing Changes Into A World Resenting Change. He Will Be Lonely Enough To Have Time For The Work He Knows As His Own.

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Money Is Power, Freedom, A Cushion, The Root Of All Evil, The Sum Of Blessings.

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Out Of Great Russia Came Three Dusky Syllables Workmen Took Guns And Went Out To Die For: Bread, Peace, Land.

Poetry Is An Exhibit Of One Pendulum Connecting With Other And Unseen Pendulums Inside And Outside The One Seen.

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In The Night The Cabbages Catch At The Moon, The Leaves Drip Silver, The Rows Of Cabbages Are A Series Of Little Silver Waterfalls In The Moon.

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The Peace Of Great Books Be For You, Stains Of Pressed Clover Leaves On Pages, Bleach Of The Light Of Years Held In Leather.

In These Times You Have To Be An Optimist To Open Your Eyes When You Awake In The Morning.

The People Know What The Land Knows.

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Now Is The Time. It Is Never Too Late To Start Something.

We Had Two Grand Antique Professors Who Had Been Teaching At Lombard Since Before I Was Born.

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There Is An Eagle In Me That Wants To Soar, And There Is A Hippopotamus In Me That Wants To Wallow In The Mud.

Christian Inspirational

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A Women Is Like A Tea Bag.it's Only When She Is In Hot Water That You Realize How Strong She Is.

I've Written Some Poetry I Don't Understand Myself.

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Poetry Is A Shuffling Of Boxes Of Illusions Buckled With A Strap Of Facts.

A Book Is Never A Masterpiece: It Becomes One. Genius Is The Talent Of A Dead Man.

Strange Things Blow In Through My Window On The Wings Of The Night Wind And I Don't Worry About My Destiny.

Men Of Ideas Vanish When Freedom Vanishes.

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Our Lives Are Like A Candle In The Wind.

Who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?

Self Reflection

We Read Robert Browning's Poetry. Here We Needed No Guidance From The Professor: The Poems Themselves Were Enough.

Poetry Is A Packsack Of Invisible Keepsakes.

The Secret Of Happiness Is To Admire Without Desiring.

There Will Be A Rusty Gun On The Wall, Sweetheart, The Rifle Grooves Curling With Flakes Of Rust. A Spider Will Make A Silver String Nest In The Darkest, Warmest Corner Of It.

The Buffaloes Are Gone. And Those Who Saw The Buffaloes Are Gone.

Poetry Is A Section Of River-fog And Moving Boat-lights, Delivered Between Bridges And Whistles, So One Says, 'oh!' And Another, 'how?'

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Poetry Is A Fresh Morning Spider-web Telling A Story Of Moonlit Hours Of Weaving And Waiting During A Night.

I Could Safely Declare, I Am An Idealist... I Believe In Everything - I Am Only Looking For Proofs.

Back Of Every Mistaken Venture And Defeat Is The Laughter Of Wisdom, If You Listen.

In Democracy Both A Deep Reverence And A Sense Of The Comic Are Requisite.

I Fell In Love, Not Deep, But I Fell Several Times And Then Fell Out.

The Woman Named Tomorrow Sits With A Hairpin In Her Teeth And Takes Her Time

Gather The Stars If You Wish It So Gather The Songs And Keep Them. Gather The Faces Of Women. Gather For Keeping Years And Years. And Then... Loosen Your Hands, Let Go And Say Good-bye. Let The Stars And Songs Go. Let The Faces And Years Go. Loosen Your Hands And Say Good-bye.

God, Let Me Remember All Good Losers.

Arithmetic Is Where Numbers Fly Like Pigeons In And Out Of Your Head.

A Tough Will Counts. So Does Desire.so Does A Rich Soft Wanting.without Rich Wanting Nothing Arrives.

Poetry Is A Dance Music Measuring Buck-and-wing Follies Along With The Gravest And Stateliest Dead-marches.

My Room For Books And Study Or For Sitting And Thinking About Nothing In Particular To See What Would Happen Was At The End Of A Hall.

Poetry Is A Mock Of A Cry At Finding A Million Dollars And A Mock Of A Laugh At Losing It.

The Scholars And Poets Of An Earlier Time Can Be Read Only With A Dictionary To Help.

I Have Written Some Poetry That I Don't Understand Myself.

Tell No Man Anything, For No Man Listens Yet Hold Thy Lips Ready To Speak.

Love Your Neighbor As Yourself But Don't Take Down Your Fence.

The Dead Hold In Their Hands Only What They Have Given Away.

The Simple Dignity Of A Child Drinking A Bowl Of Milk Embodies The Fascination Of An Ancient Rite.

A Man May Be Born, But In Order To Be Born He Must First Die, And In Order To Die He Must First Awake.

I Am Still Studying Verbs And The Mystery Of How They Connect Nouns. I Am More Suspicious Of Adjectives Than At Any Other Time In All My Born Days.

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.

Poetry Is A Tracing Of The Trajectories Of A Finite Sound To The Infinite Points Of Its Echoes.

One Of The Greatest Necessities In America Is To Discover Creative Solitude.

Poetry Is A Diary Kept By A Sea Creature Who Lives On Land And Wishes He Could Fly.

We Don't Have To Think Up A Title Till We Get The Doggone Book Written.

Poetry Is A Phantom Script Telling How Rainbows Are Made And Why They Go Away.

There Was Always The Consolation That If I Didn't Like What I Wrote I Could Throw It Away Or Burn It.

Such A Big Miracle In Such A Tiny Baby. Big Things Often Have Small Beginnings A Baby Is God's Opinion That Life Should Go On.

It Is Necessary Now And Then For A Man To Go Away By Himself And Experience Loneliness; To Sit On A Rock In The Forest And To Ask Of Himself, 'who Am I, And Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?'...if One Is Not Careful, One Allows Diversions To Take Up One's Time-the Stuff Of Life

The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet.

When I Was Writing Pretty Poor Poetry, This Girl With Midnight Black Hair Told Me To Go On.

The Machine Yes The Machine Never Wastes Anybody's Time Never Watches The Foreman Never Talks Back.

Poetry: A Sliver Of The Moon Lost In The Belly Of A Golden Frog.

Poetry Is A Type-font Design For An Alphabet Of Fun, Hate, Love, Death.

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.

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Grease But The Quacking Duck Gets Shot.

People Lie Because They Don't Remember Clear What They Saw. People Lie Because They Can't Help Making A Story Better Than It Was The Way It Happened.

It Is The Business Of Little Minds To Shrink.

To Work Hard, To Live Hard, To Die Hard, And Then Go To Hell After All Would Be Too Damned Hard.

The Fog Comes On Little Cat Feet. It Sits Looking Over The Harbor And City On Silent Haunches And Then Moves On.

What If Someone Gave A War & Nobody Came? / Life Would Ring The Bells Of Ecstasy And Forever Be Itself Again.

Be Careful With Your Words, Once They Are Said, They Can Only Be Forgiven, Not Forgotten.

Poetry Is The Journal Of A Sea Animal Living On Land, Wanting To Fly In The Air.

All My Life I Have Been Trying To Learn To Read, To See And Hear, And To Write.

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