Robert Frostin a sentence
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Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening is arguably to poetry what the Mona Lisa is to painting.
Robert Frost = U.S. poet considered by many to be the greatest of the 20th century
- Robert Frost's epitaph reads, "I had a lover's quarrel with the world."
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From the Robert Frost poem:
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 wrote it.
(source)
Robert Frost = one of the best known U.S. poets
- One time she climbed a tree, hiding up there so she wouldn't have to memorize a poem by Robert Frost.† (source)
- —ROBERT FROST† (source)
- Owen tried to prompt him, but Robert Frost could not hear The Voice—not all the way from Gravesend.† (source)
- A CONFLUENCE OF PATHS Two roads diverged in the middle of my life, I heard a wise man say I took the road less traveled by And that's made the difference every night and every day —Larry Norman (with apologies to Robert Frost) March unleashed a torrent of rainfall after an abnormally dry winter.† (source)
- Don Baithazar thought that the venerable Daton was a fraud, that Salmud Brevy and Robert Frost should have hanged themselves with their own entrails, that Wordsworth was a fool, and that anything less than Shakespeare's sonnets was a profanation of the language.† (source)
- Robert Frost has a poem, "Out, Out—" (1916), about a momentary lapse of attention and the terrible act of violence that ensues.† (source)
- Robert Frost.† (source)
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- Robert Frost PREFACE ALL OUR ATTEMPTS AT SUBTERFUGE HAD BEEN IN VAIN.† (source)
- Thinking about it now, Mother was incredible, memorizing long poems like Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken."† (source)
- Andrews averaged fifteen to twenty books a week; his taste encompassed both trash and belle-lettres, and he liked poetry, Robert Frost's particularly, but he also admired Whitman, Emily Dickinson, and the comic poems of Ogden Nash.† (source)
- —Robert Frost JUST LISTEN Chapter One I taped the commercial back in April, before anything had happened, and promptly forgot about it.† (source)
- The ceremony started late, the invocation by Cardinal Richard Cushing was extremely long, and the eighty-six-year-old poet Robert Frost was so blinded by the sun that he was unable to read the special verses he'd written for the occasion.† (source)
- Even as a schoolboy, I loved John Keats's ode "To Autumn" for being an ark of the covenant between language and sensation; as an adolescent, I loved Gerard Manley Hopkins for the intensity of his exclamations which were also equations for a rapture and an ache I didn't fully know I knew until I read him; I loved Robert Frost for his farmer's accuracy and his wily down-to-earthness; and Chaucer too for much the same reasons.† (source)
- When I'd get bored, Owen would quote me a little Robert Frost.† (source)
- It's a Robert Frost poem.† (source)
- Had she lain in her bed listening to T. Ray snore, reciting it while she fell asleep, wishing to God she could run away with Robert Frost?† (source)
- Chaucer says so, as do John Bunyan, Mark Twain, Herman Melville, Robert Frost, Jack Kerouac, Tom Robbins, Easy Rider, Thelma and Louise.† (source)
- And Owen made me read the poems of Robert Frost aloud to him—"IN MY VOICE, THEY DON'T SOUND SO GOOD."† (source)
- Robert Frost routinely objected to being called a'nature poet, since by his count he only had three or four poems without a person in them.† (source)
- But after that Christmas he often carried it with him, and I knew it was important to him because he kept it by his bed, on his night table, right next to his copies of Robert Frost's poems and under the guardianship of my mother's dressmaker's dummy.† (source)
- Robert Frost is probably the champion of the symbolic action, although his uses of it are so sly that resolutely literal readers can miss the symbolic level entirely.† (source)
- When our old friend Robert Frost tried to read his inaugural poem, Owen became most upset; maybe it was the wind, maybe Frost's eyes were tearing in the cold, or else it was the glare from the sun, or simply that the old man's eyesight was failing—whatever, he looked very feeble and he couldn't read his poem properly.† (source)
- Robert Frost doesn't come right out and say, in "After Apple Picking," that it's now October twenty-ninth or November umpteenth, but the fact that he's finished his apple picking informs us we're in autumn.† (source)
- In "Birches" Robert Frost imagines climbing the supple birches up toward heaven, then being lightly set back on theground, and he declares that both going and coming back would be good (even without wings).† (source)
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