Robert Frost Quotes

Only God and I knew what I meant when I wrote it, now only God knows

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.

Nature is always hinting at us.

If you're looking for something to be brave about, consider fine arts.

Nobody was ever meant, To remember or invent, What he did with every cent.

Word I was in my life alone, / Word I had no one left but God.

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

We disparage reason. But all the time it's what we're most concerned with. There's will as motor and there's will as brakes. Reason is, I suppose, the steering gear.

The sidelong glance is what you depend on.

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.

Hell is a half-filled auditorium.

Everyone asks for freedom for himself, The man free love, the businessman free trade, The writer and talker free speech and free press.

An idea is a feat of association.

The difference between a man and his valet: they both smoke the same cigars, but only one pays for them.

The snake stood up for evil in the Garden.

There are few sorrows, however poignant, in which a good income is of no avail.

If you don't know how great this country is, I know someone who does; Russia.

Let him that is without stone among you cast the first thing he can lay his hands on.

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.

The test is always how we treat the poor.

The truly educated can listen to any view without losing their temper or self-confidence.

Freedom is when you are easy in the harness.

For dear me, why abandon a belief Merely because it ceases to be true

Loyalty is that for the lack of which your gang will shoot you without benefit of trial by jury.

Of all crimes the worst Is to steal the glory From the great and brave, Even more accursed Than to rob the grave.

People are inexterminable - like flies and bed-bugs. There will always be some that survive in cracks and crevices - that's us.

Summoning artists to participate In the august occasions of the state Seems something artists ought to celebrate. Today is for my cause a day of days.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.

Ants are a curious race

One of the hardest things in life to accept is a called third strike.

Any work of art must first of all tell a story.

So when at times the mob is swayed To carry praise or blame too far, We may choose something like a star To stay our minds on and be staid.

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.

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.

There is much in nature against us. But we forget: Take nature altogether since time began, Including human nature, in peace and war, And it must be a little more in favor of man.

The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom.

Let's get my incantation right: "I wish I may, I wish I might" Give earth another satellite.

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.

My goal in life is to unite my avocation with my vocation, As my two eyes make one in sight.

A breeze discovered my open book And began to flutter the leaves to look

He says the best way out is always through. / And I can agree to that, or in so far / As that I can see no way out but through

I fail to see what fun, what satisfaction / A God can find in laughing at how badly / Men fumble at the possibilities.

But this we know, the obstacle that checked And tripped the body, shot the spirit on Further than target ever showed or shone.

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.

One luminary clock against the sky Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.

So was I once myself a swinger of birches. And so I dream of going back to be.

Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space.

Poetry should be common in experience but uncommon in books.

I alone of English writers have consciously set myself to make music out of what I may call the sound of sense.

If society fits you comfortably enough, you call it freedom.