A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a love sickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment. A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.
The only way round is through.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.
I hold it to be the inalienable right of anybody to go to hell in his own way.
Forgive me my nonsense, as I also forgive the nonsense of those that think they talk sense.
Education doesn't change life much. It just lifts trouble to a higher plane of regard.