Life and Existence

I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.

I’d like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love: I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.

I’d like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate willfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth’s the right place for love: I don’t know where it’s likely to go better.

Most of the change we think we see in life Is due to truths being in and out of favor.

With anyone to death, comes so far short They might as well not try to go at all.

And nothing to look backward to with pride, And nothing to look forward to with hope.

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 the end Of a love or a season?

They would not find me changed from him they knew— Only more sure of all I thought was true.

They would not find me changed from him they knew— Only more sure of all I thought was true.

Poor Jim Jay Got stuck fast In Yesterday.

“Tell them that I came, and no one answered, That I kept my word,” he said.

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind.

How slow the shadow creeps: but when ’tis past How fast the shadows fall. How fast! How fast!

When I am dead, I hope it may be said: “His sins were scarlet, but his books were read.”

Of this bad world the loveliest and the best Has smiled and said “Good Night,” and gone to rest.

Child! do not throw this book about; Refrain from the unholy pleasure Of cutting all the pictures out! Preserve it as your chiefest treasure.

I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln.

I am Anne Rutledge who sleep beneath these weeds, Beloved in life of Abraham Lincoln.

Out of me unworthy and unknown The vibrations of deathless music.

Degenerate sons and daughters, Life is too strong for you— It takes life to love life.

All, all, are sleeping on the hill.

A great nose indicates a great man— Genial, courteous, intellectual, Virile, courageous.

Under bare Ben Bulben’s head In Drumcliff churchyard Yeats is laid.

I must lie down where all the ladders start, In the foul rag-and-bone shop of the heart.