Robert Frost Quotes
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Poets like Shakespeare know more about poetry than any $25 an hour man.
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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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Trust him to have his bitter politics Against his unacquaintances the rich. Who sleep in houses of their own, though mortgaged. Conservatives, they don't know what to save.
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I could define poetry this way: it is that which is lost out of both prose and verse in translation.
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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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People are inexterminable like flies and bed-bugs. There will always be some that survive in cracks and crevices that's us.
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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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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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Democracy is the best chance for the best people.
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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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A successful lawsuit is the one worn by a policeman.
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A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
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The only way around is through.
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No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.
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One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
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Nobody was ever meant, To remember or invent, What he did with every cent.
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What is done is done for the love of it- or not really done at all.
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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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Lord, I have loved Your sky, Be it said against or for me, Have loved it clear and high, Or low and stormy....
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He burned his house down for the fire insurance and spent the proceeds on a telescope.
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I would not come in. I meant not even if asked, And I hadn't been.
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Poetry is what gets lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation.
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I dwell with a strangely aching heart. In that vanished abode there far apart.
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Love at the lips was touch As sweet as I could bear; And once that seemed too much; I lived on air.