I Play Better Tennis Because The Court

But This We Know, The Obstacle That Checked And Tripped The Body, Shot The Spirit On Further Than Target Ever Showed Or Shone.

It Looked As If A Night Of Dark Intent Was Coming, And Not Only A Night, An Age. Someone Had Better Be Prepared For Rage.

The Rose Is A Rose, And Was Always A Rose. But The Theory Now Goes That The Apple's A Rose.

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.

The Poet, As Everyone Knows, Must Strike His Individual Note Sometime Between The Ages Of Fifteen And Twenty-five. He May Hold It A Long Time, Or A Short Time, But It Is Then That He Must Strike It Or Never. School And College Have Been Conducted With The Almost Express Purpose Of Keeping Him Busy With Something Else Till The Danger Of His Ever Creating Anything Is Past.