Robert Frost Quotes
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I own I never really warmed To the reformer or reformed. And yet conversion has its place Not halfway down the scale of grace.
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I often say of George Washington that he was one of the few in the whole history of the world who was not carried away by power.
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Friends make pretence of following to the grave but before one is in it, their minds are turned and making the best of their way back to life and living people and things they understand.
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Out alone in the winter rain, / Intent on giving and taking pain.
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We can make a little order where we are, and then the big sweep of history on which we can have no effect doesn't overwhelm us. We do it with colors, with a garden, with the furnishings of a room, or with sounds and words. We make a little form, and we gain composure.
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Democracy is the best chance for the best people.
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Before now poetry has taken notice Of wars, and what are wars but politics Transformed from chronic to acute and bloody?
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Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze ...
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How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?
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The only way around is through.
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How are we to write The Russian novel in America As long as life goes so unterribly?
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The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.
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And one of the three great things in the world is gossip, you know. First there's religion; and then there's science; and there's-and then there's friendly gossip. Those are the three-the three great things.
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The way a crow Shook down on me The dust of snow From a hemlock tree Has given my heart A change of mood And saved some part Of a day I had rued.
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My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree Toward heaven still, And there's a barrel that I didn't fill Beside it, and there may be two or three Apples I didn't pick upon some bough. But I am done with apple-picking now. Essence of winter sleep is on the night, The scent of apples: I am drowsing off.
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Bounds should be set To ingenuity for being so cruel In bringing change unheralded on the unready.
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Never discuss the poem you contemplate writing. It's like turning on the outside spigot. It takes all the pressure off the upstairs bathroom.
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Sarcastic Science, she would like to know, In her complacent ministry of fear, How we propose to get away from here When she has made things so we have to go Or be wiped out. Will she be asked to show Us how by rocket we may hope to steer To some star off there, say, a half light-year Through temperature of absolute zero? Why wait for Science to supply the how When any amateur can tell it now? The way to go away should be the same As fifty million years ago we came- If anyone remembers how that was I have a theory, but it hardly does.
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No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.
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Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers today; And give us not to think so far away As the uncertain harvest; keep us here All simply in the springing of the year. Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night; And make us happy in the happy bees, The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.
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Nature is always hinting at us. It hints over and over again. And suddenly we take the hint.
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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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I would not come in. I meant not even if asked, And I hadn't been.
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A successful lawsuit is the one worn by a policeman.