Stopping by woods on a snowy evening – read by Robert Frost
The Road not Taken – Robert Frost (by Alan Bates)
Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet. His work was initially published in England before it was published in America. He is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech. His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of the twentieth century, Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry. He became one of America’s rare “public literary figures, almost an artistic institution.” He was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 1960 for his poetical works. Wikipedia
Read more about Robert Frost on Biography.com
The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
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.
Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self confidence.
Freedom lies in being bold.
I took the road less travelled by, and that has made all the difference.
I’m not a teacher, but an awakener.
In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
The best way out is always through.