Robert Frost Quotes
''The path was a vague parting in the grassRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Black Cottage."
That led us to a weathered windowsill.
We pressed our faces to the pane. "You see," he said,
"Everything's as she left it when she died...."''
''Not to sink under being man and wife,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Investment."
But get some color and music out of life?''
''She drew back; he was calmRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Subverted Flower (l. 1-4). . . The Poetry of Robert Frost. Edward Connery Lathem, ed. (1979) Henry Holt.
'It is this that had the power,'
And he lashed his open palm
With the tender-headed flower.''
''There isn't any universal reason;Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "A Masque of Reason."
And no one but a man would think there was.
You don't catch women trying to be Plato.''
''Yet some say Love by being thrallRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Bond and Free."
And simply staying possesses all
In several beauty that Thought fares far
To find fused in another star.''
''"... Keep cold, young orchard. Good-by and keep cold.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Good-by and Keep Cold."
Dread fifty above more than fifty below."''
''The house one story high in front, three storiesRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Maple."
On the end it presented to the road.''
''Owning a wife with him meant owning her.Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "Paul's Wife."
She wasn't anybody else's business,
Either to praise her or so much as name her,
And he'd thank people not to think of her.''
''Most of the change we think we see in lifeRobert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. The Black Cottage, North of Boston (1914).
Is due to truths being in and out of favor.''
''Builder, in building the little house,Robert Frost (1874-1963), U.S. poet. "The Kitchen Chimney."
In every way you may please yourself;
But please please me in the kitchen chimney:
Don't build me a chimney upon a shelf.''
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The Road Not Taken
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;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come ...
The buzz-saw snarled and rattled in the yard
And made dust and dropped stove-length sticks of wood,
Sweet-scented stuff when the breeze drew across it.
And from there those that lifted eyes could count
Five mountain ranges one behind the other
Under the sunset far into Vermont.
And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled,
As it ran light, or had to bear a load.
And nothing happened: day was all but done.