I always entertain great hopes. – Robert Frost
Ah, when to the heart of man was it ever less than a treason to go with the drift of things to yield with a grace to reason and bow and accept at the end of a love or a season. – Robert Frost
Slave to a springtime passion for the earth.
How Love burns through the Putting in the Seed
On through the watching for that early birth
When, just as the soil tarnishes with weed,
The sturdy seedling with arched body comes
Shouldering its way and shedding the earth crumbs. – Robert Frost
Poets are like baseball pitchers. Both have their moments. The intervals are the tough things. – Robert Frost