Robert Frost

Democracy is the best chance for the best people.

The first thing I do in any town I come to is ask if it has a bookstore.

I have wished a bird would fly away, _x000D_ And not sing by my house all day; _x000D_ Have clapped my hands at him from the door _x000D_ When it seemed as if I could bear no more. _x000D_ The fault must partly have been in me. _x000D_ The bird was not to blame for his key. _x000D_ And of course there must be something wrong _x000D_ In wanting to silence any song.

There are tones of voices that mean more than words.

To Time it never seems that he is brave_x000D_ _x000D_ To set himself against the peaks of snow_x000D_ _x000D_ To lay them level with the running wave,_x000D_ _x000D_ Nor is he overjoyed when they lie low,_x000D_ _x000D_ But only grave, contemplative and grave.

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.

An idea is a feat of association, and the height of it is a good metaphor.

Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these She a window flower And he a winter breeze.

The sister's face_x000D_ _x000D_ Fell all in wrinkles of responsibility._x000D_ _x000D_ She wanted to do right. She'd have to think.

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.

All the fun is in how you say a thing.

I have just been to a city in the West, a city full of poets, a city they have made safe for poets. The whole city is so lovely that you do not have to write it up to make it poetry; it is ready-made for you. But, I don't know - the poetry written in that city might not seem like poetry if read outside of the city. It would be like the jokes made when you were drunk; you have to get drunk again to appreciate them.

But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:_x000D_ _x000D_ And now from having ridden out desire_x000D_ _x000D_ They lie closed over in the wind and cling_x000D_ _x000D_ Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.

Suddenly, quietly, you realize that - from this moment forth - you will no longer walk through this life alone. Like a new sun this awareness arises within you, freeing you from fear, opening your life. It is the beginning of love, and the end of all that came before.

Love at the lips was touch_x000D_ _x000D_ As sweet as I could bear;_x000D_ _x000D_ And once that seemed too much;_x000D_ _x000D_ I lived on air.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds _x000D_ _x000D_ To darken nature and be summer woods.

I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.

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.

Courage is the human virtue that counts most-courage to act on limited knowledge and insufficient evidence. That's all any of us have.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall, and wants it down.

If one by one we counted people out