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Danh ngôn của Carl Sandburg (Sứ mệnh: 3)

Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
Sometime they'll give a war and nobody will come.
All human actions are equivalent... and all are on principle doomed to failure.
Anger is the most impotent of passions. It effects nothing it goes about, and hurts the one who is possessed by it more than the one against whom it is directed.
The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring.
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.
Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split one boulder.
In these times you have to be an optimist to open your eyes when you awake in the morning.
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect.
I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes, so live not in your yesterdays, no 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.
Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
Nothing happens unless first we dream.
I won't take my religion from any man who never works except with his mouth.
Back of every mistaken venture and defeat is the laughter of wisdom, if you listen.
I doubt if you can have a truly wild party without liquor.
I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
To be a good loser is to learn how to win.
We read Robert Browning's poetry. Here we needed no guidance from the professor: the poems themselves were enough.
When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.
The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away.
When a nation goes down, or a society perishes, one condition may always be found; they forgot where they came from. They lost sight of what had brought them along.