Quote

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.

Robert Frost

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Robert Frost
Age: 88 †
Born: 1874
Born: March 26
Died: 1963
Died: January 29
Pedagogue
Playwright
Poet
Writer
San Francisco County
California
Robert Lee Frost
Tree
Given
Hemlock
Part
Shook
Change
Crow
Heart
Snow
Way
Mood
Dust
Saved

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He burned his house down for the fire insurance and spent the proceeds on a telescope.
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Freedom is slavery some poets tell us. Enslave yourself to the right leader's truth, Christ's or Karl Marx', and it will set you free.
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I have never started a poem yet whose end I knew. Writing a poem is discovering.
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One aged man - one man - can't fill a house.
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Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow.
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You can't get too much winter in the winter.
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The hurt is not enough: I long for weight and strength. To feel the earth as rough to all my length
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The nearest friends can go With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.
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Happiness makes up in height for what it lacks in length.
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Before I built a wall I'd ask to know what I was walling in or walling out.
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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.
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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.
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Nature's never quite Sure she hasn't erred In her vague design.
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What we live by we die by.
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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.
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'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.
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God turned to speak to me (Don't anybody laugh) God found I wasn't there At least not over half.
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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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I'm not a teacher, but an awakener.
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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.
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