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Robert Frost

"Fireflies in the GardenBy Robert Frost 1874"1963 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) Achieve at times a very star-like start. Only, of course, they can't sustain the part."

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"Fireflies in the GardenBy Robert Frost 1874"1963 Here come real stars to fill the upper skies, And here on earth come emulating flies, That though they never equal stars in size, (And they were never really stars at heart) Achieve at times a very star-like start. Only, of course, they can't sustain the part."

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Amber Hurdle

"Night falls. Or has fallen. Why is it that night falls, instead of rising, like the dawn? Yet if you look east, at sunset, you can see night rising, not falling; darkness lifting into the sky, up from the horizon, like a black sun behind cloud cover. Like smoke from an unseen fire, a line of fire just below the horizon, brushfire or a burning city. Maybe night falls because it's heavy, a thick curtain pulled up over the eyes. Wool blanket."

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Amber Hurdle

"All art is but imitation of nature."

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Amber Hurdle

"Everything is the product of one universal creative effort. There is nothing dead in Nature. Everything is organic and living, and therefore the whole world appears to be a living organism."

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Amber Hurdle

"When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloudAnd goes down burning into the gulf below,No voice in nature is heard to cry aloudAt what has happened. Birds, at least must knowIt is the change to darkness in the sky.Murmuring something quiet in her breast,One bird begins to close a faded eye;Or overtaken too far from his nest,Hurrying low above the grove, some waifSwoops just in time to his remembered tree.At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe!Now let the night be dark for all of me.Let the night be too dark for me to seeInto the future. Let what will be, be."

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Amber Hurdle

"These woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep."

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Amber Hurdle

"Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space."

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Amber Hurdle

"Put your ears to the ground, to the sky, to the sun and the moon... tune in to Mother Earth's sweet song. She has messages to say, knowledge to relay, inspiration to convey... there is much for you to learn. Your journey has just begun."

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Amber Hurdle

"What branch does not have its leaves and which twig will not have its flowers?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Can I tell from the twilight from which the world is built that I am a sunrise in this life?"

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Amber Hurdle

"Smell is a potent wizard that transports you across thousands of miles and all the years you have lived."

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Robert Frost
"You have freedom when you're easy in your harness."
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Robert Frost
"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..."
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Robert Frost
"More than once I should have lost my soul to radicalism if it had been the originality it was mistaken for by its young converts."
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Robert Frost
"When the spent sun throws up its rays on cloudAnd goes down burning into the gulf below,No voice in nature is heard to cry aloudAt what has happened. Birds, at least must knowIt is the change to darkness in the sky.Murmuring something quiet in her breast,One bird begins to close a faded eye;Or overtaken too far from his nest,Hurrying low above the grove, some waifSwoops just in time to his remembered tree.At most he thinks or twitters softly, 'Safe!Now let the night be dark for all of me.Let the night be too dark for me to seeInto the future. Let what will be, be."
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Robert Frost
"Don't ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up."
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Robert Frost
"These woods are lovely, dark and deep,But I have promises to keep,And miles to go before I sleep,And miles to go before I sleep."
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Robert Frost
"I have wished a bird would fly away,And not sing by my house all day;Have clapped my hands at him from the doorWhen it seemed as if I could bear no more.The fault must partly have been in me.The bird was not to blame for his keys.And of course there must be something wrongIn waiting to silence any song."
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Robert Frost
"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."
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Robert Frost
"The mind-is not the heart.I may yet live, as I know others live,To wish in vain to let go with the mind-Of cares, at night, to sleep; but nothing tells meThat I need learn to let go with the heart."
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Robert Frost
"Space ails us moderns: we are sick with space."
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