Robert Frost Quotes
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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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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth.
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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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I see for Nature no defeat In one tree's overthrow Or for myself in my retreat For yet another blow.
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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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Our life runs down in sending up the clock. The brook runs down in sending up our life. The sun runs down in sending up the brook. And there is something sending up the sun.
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They would not find me changed from him they knew - only more sure of all I thought was true.
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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
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If the writer does not cry, the reader does not cry.
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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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The truth is the river flows into the canyon Of Ceasing-to-Question-What-Doesn't-Concern-Us, As sooner or later we have to cease somewhere.
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What you want, what you're hanging around in the world waiting for, is for something to occur to you.
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The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom... in a clarification of life - not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against confusion.
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The rain to the wind said, You push and I'll pelt.' They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged--though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.
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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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Earth's the right place for love. I don't know where it's likely to go better.
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Let those possess the land, and only those, Who love it with a love so strong and stupid That they may be abused and taken advantage of And made fun of by business, law, and art....
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A mother takes twenty years to make a man of her boy, and another woman makes a fool of him in twenty minutes.
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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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Memento mori and obey the Lord. Art and religion love the somber chord.
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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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We're either nothing or a God's regret.
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Humour is the most engaging cowardice. With it myself I have been able to hold some of my enemy in play far out of gunshot.
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Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.