I'm an idealist. I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way.
AUTHOR QUOTES
Quotes by Carl Sandburg
Explore 25 verified and sourced quotes attributed to Carl Sandburg. Open any quote for its dedicated page, source details and related topics.
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Selected quotes by Carl Sandburg
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.
Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
A baby is God's opinion that life should go on.
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
The secret of happiness is to admire without desiring.
The moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.
Life is like an onion. You peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.
To be a good loser is to learn how to win.
I am an idealist. I don't know where I'm going but I'm on my way.
There is an eagle in me that wants to soar, and there is a hippopotamus in me that wants to wallow in the mud.
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.
Nothing happens unless first we dream.
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment.
I learned you can't trust the judgment of good friends.
I doubt if you can have a truly wild party without liquor.
Poetry is the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.
Let the gentle bush dig its root deep and spread upward to split the boulder.
To work hard, to live hard, to die hard, and then go to hell after all would be too damn hard.
You remember some bedrooms you have slept in. There are bedrooms you like to remember and others you would like to forget.
Love your neighbor as yourself; but don't take down the fence.
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.
Slang is a language that rolls up its sleeves, spits on its hands and goes to work.
Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.
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