Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me. – Carl Sandburg
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the moment. – Carl Sandburg
The sea speaks a language polite people never repeat. It is a colossal scavenger slang and has no respect. – Carl Sandburg
Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. – Carl Sandburg
Around and around the house the leaves fall thick—but never fast, for they come circling down with a dead lightness that is sombre and slow. Let the gardener sweep and sweep the turf as he will, and press the leaves into full barrows, and wheel them off, still they lie ankle-deep. – Charles Dickens, Bleak House