Robert Lee Frost (March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963) was an American poet.
His work was initially published in England before it was published in America.
Robert Frost is highly regarded for his realistic depictions of rural life and his command of American colloquial speech.
His work frequently employed settings from rural life in New England in the early twentieth century, using them to examine complex social and philosophical themes. One of the most popular and critically respected American poets of the twentieth century.
Frost was honored frequently during his lifetime, receiving four Pulitzer Prizes for Poetry.
Although he never graduated from college, Frost received over 40 honorary degrees, including ones from Princeton, Oxford and Cambridge universities.
In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.
Don’t aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally.
Freedom lies in being bold.
Education is the ability to listen to almost anything without losing your temper or your self-confidence.
But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.
The best way out is always through.
Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.
A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman’s birthday but never remembers her age.
Half the world is composed of people who have something to say and can’t, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.
A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
The world is full of willing people; some willing to work, the rest willing to let them.
To be a poet is a condition, not a profession.
To be social is to be forgiving.
I am a writer of books in retrospect. I talk in order to understand; I teach in order to learn.
Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.
Don’t ever take a fence down until you know why it was put up.
Home is the place where, when you have to go there, They have to take you in.
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.
