And were an epitaph to be my story Id have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lovers quarrel with the world. – 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
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
A person will sometimes devote all his life to the development of one part of his body – the wishbone. – Robert Frost
Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them rest in obscurity and peace! Let my memory be left in oblivion, my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. – Robert Emmet