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I heard someone say he [Carl Sandburg] was the kind of writer who had everything to gain and nothing to lose by being translated into another language.
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What an exciting age it is we live in With all this talk about the hope of youth And nothing made of youth.
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Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things.
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One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
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Our lives laid down in war and peace may not Be found acceptable in Heaven's sight. And that they may be is the only prayer Worth praying. May my sacrifice Be found acceptable in Heaven's sight.
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Before I built a wall I'd ask to know What I was walling in or walling out, And to whom I was like to give offence. Something there is that doesn't love a wall, That wants it down.
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We ran as if to meet the moon.
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Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. . . . Read it a hundred times; it will forever keep its freshness as a metal keeps its fragrance. It can never lose its sense of a meaning that once unfolded by surprise as it went.
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Freud was way off base in considering sex the fundamental motivation. The ruling passion in men is minding each other's business.
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What is this talked-of mystery of birth. But being mounted bareback on the earth?
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A champion of the working class has never been known to die of overwork.
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Keats mourned that the rainbow, which as a boy had been for him a magic thing, had lost its glory because the physicists had found it resulted merely from the refraction of the sunlight by the raindrops. Yet knowledge of its causation could not spoil the rainbow for me. I am sure that it is not given to man to be omniscient. There will always be something left to know, something to excite the imagination of the poet and those attuned to the great world in which they live.
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I end not far from my going forth By picking the faded blue Of the last remaining aster flower To carry again to you.
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Everything written is as good as it is dramatic. It need not declare itself in form, but it is drama or nothing.
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You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father s. He's more particular. The father is always a Republican towards his son, and his mother's always a Democrat.
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Poetry is play. I'd even rather have you think of it as a sport. For instance, like football.
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A liberal is a man too broadminded to take his own side in a quarrel.
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There are three things, after all, that a poem must reach: the eye, the ear, and what we may call the heart or the mind. It is the most important of all to reach the heart of the reader.
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Summoning artists to participate In the august occasions of the state Seems something artists ought to celebrate. Today is for my cause a day of days.
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The difference between a man and his valet: they both smoke the same cigars, but only one pays for them.
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Families break up when they get hints you don't intend and miss hints that you do.
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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
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We disparage reason. But all the time it's what we're most concerned with. There's will as motor and there's will as brakes. Reason is, I suppose, the steering gear.
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I see for Nature no defeat In one tree's overthrow Or for myself in my retreat For yet another blow.