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Nothing Not Built With Hands Of Course Is Sacred. But Here Is Not A Question Of What's Sacred; Rather Of What To Face Or Run Away From. I'd Hate To Be A Runaway From Nature.

-Robert Frost

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Nothing Not Built With

Robert Frost

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Nothing Not Built With Hands Of Course Is Sacred. But Here Is Not A Question Of What's Sacred; Rather Of What To Face Or Run Away From. I'd Hate To Be A Runaway From Nature.

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When I Was Young, I Was So Interested In Baseball That My Family Was Afraid I'd Waste My Life And Be A Pitcher. Later They Were Afraid I'd Waste My Life And Be A Poet. They Were Right.

The Reason Artists Show So Little Interest In Public Freedom Is Because The Freedom They've Come To Feel The Need Of Is A Kind No One Can Give Them They Can Scarce Attain The Freedom Of Their Own Material.

There Is Little Much Beyond The Grave, But The Strong Are Saying Nothing Until They See.

The Father Is Always A Republican Toward His Son, And His Mother's Always A Democrat.

It Was Far In The Sameness Of The Wood; I Was Running With Joy On The Demon's Trail, Though I Knew What I Hunted Was No True God.

Courage Is The Human Virtue That Counts Most-courage To Act On Limited Knowledge And Insufficient Evidence. That's All Any Of Us Have.

One Of The Lies Would Make It Out That Nothing Ever Presents Itself Before Us Twice. Where Would We Be At Last If That Were So? Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

The Trees That Have It In Their Pent-up Buds To Darken Nature And Be Summer Woods.

What Is Done Is Done For The Love Of It- Or Not Really Done At All.

Only Where Love And Need Are One, And The Work Is Play For Mortal Stakes Is The Deed Ever Truly Done For Heaven And The Future's Sakes

Haven't You Heard, Though, About The Ships Where War Has Found Them Out At Sea, About The Towns Where War Has Come Through Opening Clouds At Night With Droning Speed Further O'erhead Than All But Stars And Angels And Children In The Ships And In The Towns?

They Would Not Find Me Changed From Him They Knew - Only More Sure Of All I Thought Was True.

I'd Like To Get Away From Earth Awhile And Then Come Back To It And Begin Over. May No Fate Wilfully Misunderstand Me And Half Grant What I Wish And Snatch Me Away Not To Return. Earth's The Right Place For Love: I Don't Know Where It's Likely To Go Better.

Two Roads Diverged In A Wood And I - I Took The One Less Traveled By, And That Has Made All The Difference.

The Afternoon Knows What The Morning Never Suspected.

Our Very Life Depends On Everything's Recurring Till We Answer From Within.

There Would Be More Than Ocean-water Broken Before God's Last Put Out The Light Was Spoken.

Love Has Earth To Which She Clings.

Nations Like The Cuban And The Swiss Can Never Hope To Wage A Global Mission. No Holy Wars For Them. The Most The Small Can Ever Give Us Is A Nuisance Brawl.

The Test Is Always How We Treat The Poor.

I Go To School The Youth To Learn The Future.

The Chance Is The Remotest, Of Its Going Much Longer Unnoticed, That I'm Not Keeping Pace With The Headlong Human Race

I Have Been One Acquainted With The Night. I Have Walked Out In Rain - And Back In Rain. I Have Out Walked The Furthest City Light. I Have Looked Down The Saddest City Lane. I Have Passed By The Watchman On His Beat And Dropped My Eyes, Unwilling To Explain. I Have Stood Still And Stopped The Sound Of Feet. When Far Away An Interrupted Cry Came Over Houses From Another Street, But Not To Call Me Back Or Say Good-bye; And Further Still At An Unearthly Light, One Luminary Clock Against The Sky Proclaimed The Time Was Neither Wrong Nor Right. I Have Been One Acquainted With The Night.

Don't Ever Take A Fence Down Until You Know Why It Was Put Up.

In Heaven We Are All Ghostwriters, If We Write At All.

Have Courage And A Little Willingness To Venture And Be Defeated.

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.

All Thought Is A Feat Of Association; Having What's In Front Of You Bring Up Something In Your Mind That You Almost Didn't Know You Knew

Diplomacy, N : 1. The Patriotic Art Of Lying For One's Country. 2. The Art Of Letting Someone Have Your Way. 3. The Art Of Saying 'nice Doggy' Until You Can Find A Rock. A Diplomat Is A Man Who Always Remembers A Woman's Birthday But Never Remembers Her Age.

Earth Would Soon Be Uninhabitable As The Moon. What For That Matter Had It Ever Been? Who Advised Man To Come And Live Therein?

I Play Better Tennis Because The Court Is There.

We Get Twitted Now And Then On How We Made This Country. Well, We Took The Whole Business, Of Course. It's Not Just That Corner That We Took From Mexico. When We Got It All Together, We Got A Very Shapely Country-the Best Continental Cut In All The World, Between The Two Oceans And In The Right Temperature Zone.

What You Want, What You're Hanging Around In The World Waiting For, Is For Something To Occur To You.

What We Live By We Die By.

Poetry Is About The Grief. Politics Is About The Grievance.

Most Of The Change We Think We See In Life Is Due To Truths Being In And Out Of Favor.

(soft Petals, Yes, But Not So Barren Quite, Mingled With These, Smooth Bean And Wrinkled Pea;) And Go Along With You Ere You Lose Sight Of What You Came For And Become Like Me, Slave To A Springtime Passion For The Earth. How Love Burns Through The Putting In The Seed On Through The Watching For That Early Birth When, Just As The Soil Tarnishes With Weed, The Sturdy Seedling With Arched Body Comes Shouldering Its Way And Shedding The Earth Crumbs.

Nature's Never Quite Sure She Hasn't Erred In Her Vague Design.

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.

A Civilized Society Is One Which Tolerates Eccentricity To The Point Of Doubtful Sanity.

My Definition Of Poetry (if I Were Forced To Give One) Would Be This: Words That Have Become Deeds.

End Is A Gloomy Word.

Create And Stir Other People To Create.

Now Close The Windows And Hush All The Fields: If The Trees Must, Let Them Silently Toss.

And Nothing To Look Backward To With Pride, And Nothing To Look Forward To With Hope.

I End Not Far From My Going Forth By Picking The Faded Blue Of The Last Remaining Aster Flower To Carry Again To You.

I Am Not A Teacher. I Am An Awakener.

More Men Die Of Worry Than Of Work, Because More Men Worry Than Work.

As It Is More Blessed To Receive, So It Must Be More Blessed To Receive Than To Give Back.

I Dwell In A Lonely House I Know That Vanished Many A Summer Ago.

There Never Was Any Heart Truly Great And Generous, That Was Not Also Tender And Compassionate.

Life Is Tons Of Discipline. Your First Discipline Is Your Vocabulary; Then Your Grammar And Your Punctuation

Many Lovers Have Been Divorced By Having What Is Free Enforced.

You Can't Get Too Much Winter In The Winter.

Home Is The Place Where, When You Have To Go There, They Have To Take You In.

We Cannot Tell Some People What It Is Believe, Partly Because They Are Too Stupid To Understand, Partly Because We Are Too Proudly Vague To Explain.

When I Was Young My Teachers Were The Old. I Gave Up Fire For Form Till I Was Cold.

Being The Boss Anywhere Is Lonely. Being A Female Boss In A World Of Mostly Men Is Especially So.

Something There Is That Doesn't Love A Wall, And Wants It Down.

States Strong Enough To Do Good Are But Few. Their Number Would Seem Limited To Three.

The Master Speed No Speed Of Wind Or Water Rushing By But You Have Speed Far Greater. You Can Climb Back Up A Stream Of Radiance To The Sky, And Back Through History Up The Stream Of Time. And You Were Given This Swiftness, Not For Haste Nor Chiefly That You May Go Where You Will, But In The Rush Of Everything To Waste, That You May Have The Power Of Standing Still-- Off Any Still Or Moving Thing You Say. Two Such As You With Such A Master Speed From One Another Once You Are Agreed That Life Is Only Life Forevermore Together Wing To Wing And Oar To Oar.

My Goal In Life Is To Unite My Avocation With My Vocation, As My Two Eyes Make One In Sight.

It Is Absurd To Think That The Only Way To Tell If A Poem Is Lasting Is To Wait And See If It Lasts. The Right Reader Of A Good Poem Can Tell The Moment It Strikes Him That He Has Taken An Immortal Wound-that He Will Never Get Over It.

There's Nothing I'm Afraid Of Like Scared People.

The Nearest Friends Can Go With Anyone To Death, Comes So Far Short They Might As Well Not Try To Go At All.

Nearly Everybody Is Looking For Something Brave To Do. I Don't Know Why People Shouldn't Write Poetry. That's Brave.

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.

Such Heaps Of Broken Glass To Sweep Away / You'd Think The Inner Dome Of Heaven Had Fallen.

Keep All Ur Troubles In Ur Own Pocket. But, Make Sure That The Pocket Has A Hole!

Oh, Give Us Pleasure In The Orch-ard White, Like Nothing Else By Day, Like Ghosts By Night.

Good Fences Make Good Neighbors.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder

Mind Your Own Business

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.

Any Work Of Art Must First Of All Tell A Story.

Let Me Be The One To Do What Is Done.

The First Thing I Do In The Morning Is To Make My Bed And While I Am Making Up My Bed I Am Making Up My Mind As To What Kind Of A Day I Am Going To Have.

Sentences Are Not Different Enough To Hold The Attention Unless They Are Dramatic. No Ingenuity Of Varying Structure Will Do. All That Can Save Them Is The Speaking Tone Of Voice Somehow Entangled In The Words And Fastened To The Page For The Ear Of The Imagination. That Is All That Can Save Poetry From Sing-song, All That Can Save Prose From Itself.

Not Yesterday I Learned To Know The Love Of Bare November Days Before The Coming Of The Snow.

Loosely Bound By Countless Silken Ties Of Love And Thought To Everything On Earth The Compass Round

Nothing Can Make Injustice Just But Mercy.

Democracy Is The Best Chance For The Best People.

Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak, Until We Found It Was Ourselves.

If One By One We Counted People Out

The Sister's Face Fell All In Wrinkles Of Responsibility. She Wanted To Do Right. She'd Have To Think.

What Is Required Is Sight And Insight- Then You Might Add One More: Excite.

The Old Dog Barks Backward Without Getting Up I Can Remember When He Was A Pup.

I Hope To Leave Behind A Few Poems It Will Be Hard To Get Rid Of.

I'd Like To Get Away From Earth Awhile / And Then Come Back To It And Begin Over.

The Poet, As Everyone Knows, Must Strike His Individual Note Sometime Between The Ages Of Fifteen And Twenty-five. He May Hold It A Long Time, Or A Short Time, But It Is Then That He Must Strike It Or Never. School And College Have Been Conducted With The Almost Express Purpose Of Keeping Him Busy With Something Else Till The Danger Of His Ever Creating Anything Is Past.

Now No Joy But Lacks Salt That Is Not Dashed With Pain And Weariness And Fault; I Crave The Stain Of Tears, The Aftermark Of Almost Too Much Love, The Sweet Of Bitter Bark And Burning Clove.

You've Got To Be Brave And You've Got To Be Bold. Brave Enough To Take Your Chance On Your Own Discrimination, What's Right And What's Wrong, What's Good And What's Bad.

Memento Mori And Obey The Lord. Art And Religion Love The Somber Chord.

Have I Not Walked Without An Upward Look Of Caution Under Stars That Very Well Might Not Have Missed Me When They Shot And Fell? It Was A Risk I Had To Take-and Took.

He Thought That I Was After Him For A Feather--- The White One In His Tail: Like One Who Takes Everything Said As Personal To Himself.

A Mother Takes Twenty Years To Make A Man Of Her Boy, And Another Woman Makes A Fool Of Him In Twenty Minutes.

The Difference Between A Man And His Valet: They Both Smoke The Same Cigars, But Only One Pays For Them.

The Hurt Is Not Enough: I Long For Weight And Strength. To Feel The Earth As Rough To All My Length

A Poet Must Never Make A Statement Simply Because It Sounds Poetically Exciting; He Must Also Believe It To Be True." - W. H. Auden "a Poem...begins As A Lump In The Throat, A Sense Of Wrong, A Homesickness, A Lovesickness...it Finds The Thought And The Thought Finds The Words.

A Turning Point In Modern History.

The Best Way Out Is Always Through.

The Land Was Ours Before We Were The Land's. She Was Our Land More Than A Hundred Years Before We Were Her People.

For I Thought Epicurus And Lucretius By Nature Meant The Whole Goddam Machinery.

I Came From A Very Intellectual Neighborhood. When We Played Cowboys And Indians As Kids, I Had To Be Gandhi.

It's God - I Recognised Him From Blake's Picture.

The First Thing I Do In Any Town I Come To Is Ask If It Has A Bookstore.

An Idea Comes As Near To Something For Nothing As You Can Get.

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.

In Three Words I Can Sum Up Everything I've Learned About Life: It Goes On.

But I May Be One Who Does Not Care Ever To Have Tree Bloom Or Bear.

They Cannot Scare Me With Their Empty Spaces Between Stars—on Stars Where No Human Race Is. I Have It In Me So Much Nearer Home To Scare Myself With My Own Desert Places.

When The Spent Sun Throws Up Its Rays On Cloud And Goes Down Burning Into The Gulf Below, No Voice In Nature Is Heard To Cry Aloud At What Has Happened. Birds, At Least Must Know It Is The Change To Darkness In The Sky. Murmuring Something Quiet In Her Breast, One Bird Begins To Close A Faded Eye; Or Overtaken Too Far From His Nest, Hurrying Low Above The Grove, Some Waif Swoops Just In Time To His Remembered Tree. At Most He Thinks Or Twitters Softly, 'safe! Now Let The Night Be Dark For All Of Me. Let The Night Be Too Dark For Me To See Into The Future. Let What Will Be, Be.

Life Is Tons Of Discipline. Your First Discipline Is Your Vocabulary; Then Your Grammar And Your Punctuation Then, In Your Exuberance And Bounding Energy You Say You're Going To Add To That. Then You Add Rhyme And Meter. And Your Delight Is In That Power.

There Is One Thing More Exasperating Than A Wife Who Can Cook And Won't, And That's A Wife Who Can't Cook And Will.

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.

Fireflies In The Garden By Robert Frost 1874–1963 Here Come Real Stars To Fill The Upper Skies, And Here On Earth Come Emulating Flies, That Though They Never Equal Stars In Size, (and They Were Never Really Stars At Heart) Achieve At Times A Very Star-like Start. Only, Of Course, They Can't Sustain The Part.

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.

The Line-storm Clouds Fly Tattered And Swift, The Road Is Forlorn All Day, Where A Myriad Snowy Quartz Stones Lift, And The Hoof-prints Vanish Away. The Roadside Flowers, Too Wet For The Bee, Expend Their Bloom In Vain. Come Over The Hills And Far With Me, And Be My Love In The Rain.

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.

The Sun Was Warm But The Wind Was Chill. You Know How It Is With An April Day.

One Aged Man - One Man - Can't Fill A House.

Of All Crimes The Worst Is To Steal The Glory From The Great And Brave, Even More Accursed Than To Rob The Grave.

He Is All Pine And I Am Apple Orchard. My Apple Trees Will Never Get Across And Eat The Cones Under His Pines, I Tell Him. He Only Says, "good Fences Make Good Neighbors.

What An Exciting Age It Is We Live In With All This Talk About The Hope Of Youth And Nothing Made Of Youth.

It's Hard To Get Into This World And Hard To Get Out Of It, And What's In Between Doesn't Make Much Sense.

The Only Certain Freedom's In Departure.

But What Would Interest You About The Brook, It's Always Cold In Summer, Warm In Winter.

Talking Is A Hydrant In The Yard And Writing Is A Faucet Upstairs In The House. Opening The First Takes The Pressure Off The Second.

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.

If The Day Ever Comes When They Know Who They Are, They May Know Better Where They Are.

To Be A Poet Is A Condition, Not A Profession.

I Could Define Poetry This Way: It Is That Which Is Lost Out Of Both Prose And Verse In Translation.

The Only Way Out Is To Go Through

The Figure A Poem Makes. It Begins In Delight And Ends In Wisdom.

We Dance Round In A Ring And Suppose, But The Secret Sits In The Middle And Knows.

How Many Times It Thundered Before Franklin Took The Hint! How Many Apples Fell On Newton's Head Before He Took The Hint! Nature Is Always Hinting At Us. It Hints Over And Over Again. And Suddenly We Take The Hint.

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.

The Sun Was Warm But The Wind Was Chill. You Know How It Is With An April Day. When The Sun Is Out And The Wind Is Still, You're One Month On In The Middle Of May. But If You So Much As Dare To Speak, A Cloud Come Over The Sunlit Arch, And Wind Comes Off A Frozen Peak, And You're Two Months Back In The Middle Of March.

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.

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.

... A Nation Has To Take Its Natural Course Of Progress Round And Round In Circles From King To Mob To King To Mob To King Until The Eddy Of It Eddies Out.

Loyalty Is That For The Lack Of Which Your Gang Will Shoot You Without Benefit Of Trial By Jury.

You're Searching... For Things That Don't Exist; I Mean Beginnings. Ends And Beginnings - There Are No Such Things. There Are Only Middles.

You're Always Believing Ahead Of Your Evidence. What Was The Evidence I Could Write A Poem? I Just Believed It. The Most Creative Thing In Us Is To Believe In A Thing.

A Voice Said, Look Me In The Stars And Tell Me Truly, Men Of Earth, If All The Soul-and-body Scars Were Not Too Much To Pay For Birth.

If We Couldn't Laugh We Would All Go Insane.

God Turned To Speak To Me (don't Anybody Laugh); God Found I Wasn't There At Least Not Over Half.

Before I Built A Wall I'd Ask To Know What I Was Walling In Or Walling Out.

One Age Is Like Another For The Soul.

For Me The Initial Delight Is In The Surprise Of Remembering Something I Didn't Know I Knew. I Have Never Started A Poem Yet Whose End I Knew.

Butterflies...flowers That Fly And All But Sing.

Monarch Butterfly

Nature's First Green Is Gold.

Thinking Is Not To Agree Or Disagree. That's Voting.

There Are Two Kinds Of Teachers: The Kind That Fill You With So Much Quail Shot That You Can't Move, And The Kind That Just Gives You A Little Prod Behind And You Jump To The Skies.

Unless You Are Educated In Metaphor, You Are Not Safe To Be Let Loose In The World.

A Name With Meaning Could Bring Up A Child, Taking The Child Out Of The Parents' Hands. Better A Meaningless Name, I Should Say, As Leaving More To Nature And Happy Chance. Name Children Some Names And See What You Do.

Nor Is There Wanting In The Press Some Spirit To Stand Simply Forth, Heroic In It Nakedness, Against The Uttermost Of Earth. The Tale Of Earth's Unhonored Things Sounds Nobler There Than 'neath The Sun; And The Mind Whirls And The Heart Sings, And A Shout Greets The Daring One.

A Poem May Be Worked Over Once It Is In Being, But May Not Be Worried Into Being.

Education Doesn't Change Life Much. It Just Lifts Trouble To A Higher Plane Of Regard.

A Successful Lawsuit Is The One Worn By A Policeman.

All There Is To Writing Is Having Ideas. To Learn To Write Is To Learn To Have Ideas.

You Can't Trust God To Be Unmerciful. There You Have The Beginning Of All Wisdom.

I Own I Never Really Warmed To The Reformer Or Reformed. And Yet Conversion Has Its Place Not Halfway Down The Scale Of Grace.

The Best Things And Best People Rise Out Of Their Separateness; I'm Against A Homogenized Society Because I Want The Cream To Rise.

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.

Nature Does Not Complete Things. She Is Chaotic. Man Must Finish, And He Does So By Making A Garden And Building A Wall.

Both T.s. Eliot And I Like To Play, But I Like To Play Euchre, While He Likes To Play Eucharist.

God Made A Beauteous Garden With Lovely Flowers Strown, But One Straight, Narrow Pathway That Was Not Overgrown. And To This Beauteous Garden He Brought Mankind To Live, And Said "to You, My Children, These Lovely Flowers I Give. Prune Ye My Vines And Fig Trees, With Care My Flowers Tend, But Keep The Pathway Open Your Home Is At The End." God's Garden

Live And Let Live, Believe And Let Believe. 'twas Said The Lesser Gods Were Only Traits Of The One Awful God. Just So The Saints Are God's White Light Refracted Into Colors.

I Am A Writer Of Books In Retrospect. I Talk In Order To Understand; I Teach In Order To Learn.

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.

Summary Riposte To The Dreary Wail There's No Knowing What Love Is All About. Poets Know A Lot.

For I Have Had Too Much Of Apple-picking:i Am Overtired Of The Great Harvest I Myself Desired.

Men Work Together, Whether They Work Together Or Apart.

Working Together

Let Cloud Shapes Swarm, / Let Chaos Storm, / I Wait For Form.

All Those Who Try To Go It Sole Alone, Too Proud To Be Beholden For Relief, Are Absolutely Sure To Come To Grief.

The Style Is The Man. Rather Say The Style Is The Way The Man Takes Himself; And To Be At All Charming Or Even Bearable, The Way Is Almost Rigidly Prescribed. If It Is With Outer Seriousness, It Must Be With Inner Humor. If It Is With Outer Humor, It Must Be With Inner Seriousness. No Other Way Will Do.

Everything Written Is As Good As It Is Dramatic. It Need Not Declare Itself In Form, But It Is Drama Or Nothing.

It Comes Down To A Doubt About The Wisdom Of Having Children After Having Had Them, So There Is Nothing We Can Do About It But Warn The Children They Perhaps Should Have None.

I've Given Offense By Saying I'd As Soon Write Free Verse As Play Tennis With The Net Down.

The Strongest And Most Effective Force In Guaranteeing The Long-term Maintenance Of Power Is Not Violence In All The Forms Deployed By The Dominant To Control The Dominated, But Consent In All The Forms In Which The Dominated Acquiesce In Their Own Domination.

What Is This Talked-of Mystery Of Birth. But Being Mounted Bareback On The Earth?

The Best Way To Hate Is The Worst. 'tis To Find What The Hated Need, Never Mind Of What Actual Worth, And Wipe That Out Of The Earth. Let Them Die Of Unsatisfied Greed.

An Idea Is A Feat Of Association.

I Never Feel More At Home Than At A Ballgame.

And Were An Epitaph To Be My Story I'd Have A Short One Ready For My Own. I Would Have Written Of Me On My Stone: I Had A Lover's Quarrel With The World.

The People I Want To Hear About Are The People Who Take Risks.

How Many Things Have To Happen To You Before Something Occurs To You?

There Is The Fear That We Shan't Prove Worthy In The Eyes Of Someone Who Knows Us At Least As Well As We Know Ourselves. That Is The Fear Of God. And There Is The Fear Of Man -fear That Men Won't Understand Us And We Shall Be Cut Of From Them.

I Write To Find Out What I Didn't Know I Knew.

The Woods Are Lovely, Dark, And Deep But I Have Promises To Keep...

If One By One We Counted People Out For The Least Sin, It Wouldn't Take Us Long To Get So We Had No One Left To Live With. For To Be Social Is To Be Forgiving.

A Liberal Is A Man Too Broadminded To Take His Own Side In A Quarrel.

You Can Be A Little Ungrammatical If You Come From The Right Part Of The Country.

'warm In December, Cold In June, You Say?' I Don't Suppose The Water's Changed At All. You And I Know Enough To Know It's Warm Compared With Cold, And Cold Compared With Warm. But All The Fun's In How You Say A Thing.

Leaves And Bark, Leaves And Bark, To Lean Against And Hear In The Dark. Petals I May Have Once Pursued. Leaves Are All My Darker Mood.

Here Are Your Waters And Your Watering Place. Drink And Be Whole Again Beyond Confusion.

Any Eye Is An Evil Eye That Looks In On To A Mood Apart.

Of Course There Is Matter For Remark In Poems. Nobody Denies That. But It Must Be Solemnly Laid On Everybody In This World To Make His Own Observations And Remarks. That's What We Mean By Thinking, And That's About All We Mean. A Teacher Says To A Pupil "watch Me Notice A Few Things In The Next Few Months: Let's See You Notice A Few Things Too."

To Time It Never Seems That He Is Brave To Set Himself Against The Peaks Of Snow To Lay Them Level With The Running Wave, Nor Is He Overjoyed When They Lie Low, But Only Grave, Contemplative And Grave.

Gathering Leaves Spades Take Up Leaves No Better Than Spoons, And Bags Full Of Leaves Are Light As Balloons. I Make A Great Noise Of Rustling All Day Like Rabbit And Deer Running Away. But The Mountains I Raise Elude My Embrace, Flowing Over My Arms And Into My Face. I May Load And Unload Again And Again Till I Fill The Whole Shed, And What Have I Then? Next To Nothing For Weight, And Since They Grew Duller From Contact With Earth, Next To Nothing For Color. Next To Nothing For Use. But A Crop Is A Crop, And Who's To Say Where The Harvest Shall Stop?

The Difference Between A Job And A Career Is The Difference Between Forty And Sixty Hours A Week.

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