Two such as you with such a master speed, cannot be parted nor be swept away, from one another once you are agreed, that life is only life forevermore, together wing to wing and oar to oar.
Robert FrostRead
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
Interpretation
The quote emphasizes the importance of fulfilling obligations and responsibilities before finding rest.
In this quote, Robert Frost conveys a deep sense of duty and the weight of commitments one has to uphold in life. The repetition of 'miles to go before I sleep' illustrates the idea that there are many challenges and responsibilities that must be addressed before one can find peace or rest. It reflects on the journey of life, suggesting that fulfillment comes from honoring one's promises and working towards goals.
In practice
This quote could be used in a speech about achieving goals before taking a break.
Two such as you with such a master speed, cannot be parted nor be swept away, from one another once you are agreed, that life is only life forevermore, together wing to wing and oar to oar.
You have freedom when you're easy in your harness.
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
'Warm in December, cold in June, you say?' _x000D_ _x000D_ I don't suppose the water's changed at all. _x000D_ _x000D_ You and I know enough to know it's warm _x000D_ _x000D_ Compared with cold, and cold compared with warm. _x000D_ _x000D_ But all the fun's in how you say a thing.
For, dear me, why abandon a belief, Merely because it ceases to be true, Cling to it long enough, and not a doubt, It will turn true again, for so it goes.
The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.
I stir in bed and the memories rise out of me like a buzz of flies from a carcass. I crave to be rid of them.
It's alright, just wait and see, your string of lights is still bright to me. Who you are is not where you've been. You're still an innocent. It's okay life is a tough crowd, 32 is still growing up now.
I had real plans for my next decade and felt I'd worked hard enough to earn it. Will I really not live to see my children married? To watch the World Trade Center rise again? To read - if not indeed write - the obituaries of elderly villains like Henry Kissinger and Joseph Ratzinger?
Perhaps it is the greatest grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.
Katrina silenced me for two years. I wrote a 12-page essay on my experience in Katrina, and that's it. I didn't write anything for, like, two, two and a half years after Katrina hit because it was so traumatic.
I fear I have not one good word to say this fair morning, though the sun shines so encouragingly on the distant hills and gentle river and the trees are in their festive hues. I am not festive, though contented. When obliged to give myself to the prose of life, as I am on this occasion of being established in a new home I like to do the thing, wholly and quite, - to weave my web for the day solely from the grey yarn.
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