I have outwalked the furthest city light…. – Robert Frost
The figure a poem makes. It begins in delight and ends in wisdom… in a clarification of life – not necessarily a great clarification, such as sects and cults are founded on, but in a momentary stay against confusion. – Robert Frost
My sorrow, when shes here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree; she walks the sodden pasture lane. – Robert Frost
A person will sometimes devote all his life to the development of one part of his body – the wishbone. – Robert Frost
How can you explain that you need to know that the trees are still there, and the hills and the sky? Anyone knows they are. How can you say it is time your pulse responded to another rhythm, the rhythm of the day and the season instead of the hour and the minute? No, you cannot explain. So you walk. – Author unknown, from New York Times editorial, “The Walk,” 25 October 1967