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.
Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silentQusmo Qusmo 2012-09-14 (visit:681) - Victor Hugo poetry
Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-16 (visit:755) - Leonardo da Vinci poetry
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire,
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Forgive, O Lord, my little jokes on Thee
And I'll forgive Thy great big one on me.
even the stars
are whispering to each other.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-18 (visit:666) - T.S. Eliot poetry
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-13 (visit:616) - Robert Frost poetry
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Anon, who wrote so many poems without signing them, was often a woman.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-11 (visit:630) - Virginia Woolf A Room of One's Own poetry
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Love consists of this: two solitudes that meet, protect and greet each other.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-14 (visit:776) - Rainer Maria Rilke poetry
April is the cruelest month, breeding
lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
memory and desire, stirring
dull roots with spring rain.
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-18 (visit:641) - T.S. Eliot poetry
Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-17 (visit:756) - William Faulkner The Wild Palms poetry
The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-14 (visit:761) - Rainer Maria Rilke poetry
There is not a particle of life which does not bear poetry within itQusmo Qusmo 2012-09-11 (visit:687) - Gustave Flaubert poetry
What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
A woman knows very well that, though a wit sends her his poems, praises her judgment, solicits her criticism, and drinks her tea, this by no means signifies that he respects her opinions, admires her understanding, or will refuse, though the rapier is denied him, to run through the body with his pen.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-11 (visit:742) - Virginia Woolf Orlando poetry
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no poor indifferent place.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-14 (visit:623) - Rainer Maria Rilke Letters to a Young Poet poetry
I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heartQusmo Qusmo 2012-09-18 (visit:721) - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow poetry
Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.Qusmo Qusmo 2012-09-14 (visit:689) - Friedrich Nietzsche poetry