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Both T.S. Eliot and I like to play, but I like to play euchre, while he likes to play Eucharist.
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Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
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Courage is of the heart by derivation, And great it is. But fear is of the soul.
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The Vermont mountains stretch extended straight; New Hampshire mountains curl up in a coil.
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A man has got to keep his extrication. The important thing is not to get bogged down In what he has to do to earn a living....
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Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.
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Something sinister in the tone Told me my secret must be known: Word I was in the house alone Somehow must have gotten abroad, Word I was in my life alone, Word I had no one left but God.
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O hushed October morning mild, Thy leaves have ripened to the fall; Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild, Should waste them all. The crows above the forest call; Tomorrow they may form and go. O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow. Make the day seem to us less brief. Hearts not averse to being beguiled, Beguile us in the way you know. Release one leaf at break of day; At noon release another leaf; One from our trees, one far away.
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I dwell in a lonely house I know That vanished many a summer ago.
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New is a word for fools in towns who think Style upon style in dress and thought at last Must get somewhere.
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It is only a moment here and a moment there that the greatest writer has. Some cognizance of the fact must be taken in your teaching.
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I am not a teacher, but an awakener.
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Everyone asks for freedom for himself, The man free love, the businessman free trade, The writer and talker free speech and free press.
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I dwell with a strangely aching heart. In that vanished abode there far apart.
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The reason why worry kills more people than work is that more people worry than work.
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States strong enough to do good are but few. Their number would seem limited to three.
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I only hope that when I am free, as they are free to go in quest, of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life, it may not seem better to me to rest.
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When I see birches bend to left and right... I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
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Suddenly, quietly, you realize that - from this moment forth - you will no longer walk through this life alone. Like a new sun this awareness arises within you, freeing you from fear, opening your life. It is the beginning of love, and the end of all that came before.
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You don't have to deserve your mother's love. You have to deserve your father's.
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It looked as if a night of dark intent was coming, and not only a night, an age. Someone had better be prepared for rage...
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I fail to see what fun, what satisfaction / A God can find in laughing at how badly / Men fumble at the possibilities...
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I have wished a bird would fly away, And not sing by my house all day; Have clapped my hands at him from the door When it seemed as if I could bear no more. The fault must partly have been in me. The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.
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Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.