Robert Frost Quotes - Page 16

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• Everything written is as good as it is dramatic. It need not declare itself in form, but it is drama or nothing.

  Robert Frost

  Drama, Needs, Form

  Robert Frost, Mark Richardson (2007). “The Collected Prose of Robert Frost”, p.99, Harvard University Press

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• I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice.

  Robert Frost

  Hate, Thinking, Ice

  Source: www.wbur.org

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• A poet must never make a statement simply because it sounds poetically exciting; he must also believe it to be true." - W. H. Auden
  "A poem...begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness...It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

  Robert Frost

  Believe, Sound, Poet

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• Sentences are not different enough to hold the attention unless they are dramatic. No ingenuity of varying structure will do. All that can save them is the speaking tone of voice somehow entangled in the words and fastened to the page for the ear of the imagination. That is all that can save poetry from sing-song, all that can save prose from itself.

  Robert Frost

  Song, Voice, Imagination

  Robert Frost, Mark Richardson (2007). “The Collected Prose of Robert Frost”, p.17, Harvard University Press

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• I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate wilfully 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.

  Robert Frost

  Love, Fate, Wish

  Mountain Interval (1916) "Birches"

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

  Robert Frost

  Hope, Failure, Pride

  North of Boston (1914) "Death of the Hired Man"

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• But I may be one who does not care
  Ever to have tree bloom or bear.

  Robert Frost

  Tree, Doe, Care

  Robert Frost (1936). “A Further Range”

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• Now close the windows and hush all the fields:
  If the trees must, let them silently toss.

  Robert Frost

  Silence, Tree, Toss

  Robert Frost (2012). “A Boy's Will and North of Boston”, p.22, Courier Corporation

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• But he had gone his way, the grass all mown, And I must be, as he had been - alone, As all must be, I said within my heart, Whether they work together or apart.

  Robert Frost

  Work, Heart, Together

  Robert Frost, Mark Richardson (2007). “The Collected Prose of Robert Frost”, p.214, Harvard University Press

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• Now no joy but lacks salt That is not dashed with pain And weariness and fault; I crave the stain Of tears, the aftermark Of almost too much love, The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.

  Robert Frost

  Love, Sweet, Pain

  Robert Frost (1986). “Robert Frost”, Clarkson Potter

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• Both T.S. Eliot and I like to play, but I like to play euchre, while he likes to play Eucharist.

  Robert Frost

  Play, Likes, Eucharist

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• Affection is an overpowering craving to be compellingly sought.

  Robert Frost

  Affection, Craving, Overpowering

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• I own I never really warmed
  To the reformer or reformed.
  And yet conversion has its place
  Not halfway down the scale of grace.

  Robert Frost

  Grace, Reform, Scales

  Robert Frost (1971). “The poetry of Robert Frost”

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• The Moon for all her light and grace
  Has never learned to know her place.

  Robert Frost

  Moon, Light, Grace

  Robert Frost (1975). “The poetry of Robert Frost”

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• Possessing what we still were unpossessed by, Possessed by what we now no more possessed.

  Robert Frost

  Stills, Possessing, Possessed

  Reginald Lansing Cook, Robert Frost (1974). “Robert Frost, a living voice”, Univ of Massachusetts Pr

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• Ants are a curious race

  Robert Frost

  Race, Ants, Curious

  Robert Frost (1963). “Selected poems”

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• The question that he frames in all but words is what to make of a diminished thing.

  Robert Frost

  1916 'The Oven Bird'.

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• For I have had too much Of apple-picking:I am overtired Of the great harvest I myself desired.

  Robert Frost

  Apples, Too Much, Harvest

  Robert Frost (2012). “A Boy's Will and North of Boston”, p.57, Courier Corporation

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• Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.

  Robert Frost

  Night, White, Giving

  Robert Frost (2012). “A Boy's Will and North of Boston”, p.7, Courier Corporation

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• My definition of poetry (if I were forced to give one) would be this: words that have become deeds.

  Robert Frost

  Giving, Would Be, Deeds

  Robert Frost, Mark Richardson (2007). “The Collected Prose of Robert Frost”, p.84, Harvard University Press

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• The Armful For every parcel I stoop down to seize I lose some other off my arms and knees, And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns, Extremes too hard to comprehend at. once Yet nothing I should care to leave behind. With all I have to hold with hand and mind And heart, if need be, I will do my best. To keep their building balanced at my breast. I crouch down to prevent them as they fall; Then sit down in the middle of them all. I had to drop the armful in the road And try to stack them in a better load.

  Robert Frost

  Fall, Heart, Hands

  Robert Frost (1928). “West-running Brook”, Henry Holt

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• Two such as you with such a master speed Cannot be parted nor be swept away

  Robert Frost

  Wedding, Two, Speed

  Robert Frost (1936). “A Further Range”

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• A poem may be worked over once it is in being, but may not be worried into being.

  Robert Frost

  May, Worried

  'Collected Poems' (1939) 'The Figure a Poem Makes'

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• Our life runs down in sending up the clock. The brook runs down in sending up our life. The sun runs down in sending up the brook. And there is something sending up the sun. It is this backward motion toward the source, Against the stream, that most we see ourselves in, The tribute of the current to the source. It is from this in nature we are from. It is most us.

  Robert Frost

  Running, Sun, Clock

  928 'West-Running Brook'.

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• I do not see why I should e’er turn back, Or those should not set forth upon my track To overtake me, who should miss me here And long to know if still I held them dear. They would not find me changed from him they knew — Only more sure of all I thought was true.

  Robert Frost

  Long, Track, Missing

  Robert Frost (2014). “The Letters of Robert Frost”, p.6, Harvard University Press

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