Author of quotes: Robert Frost

Diplomat man who always remembers birthday of the woman, but never remembers how old she is.

In the autumn forest, a fork in the road,
I was thinking, at turn;
The way was two, and the world was wide,
However, I could not bifurcate,
And we had to decide on something.
I chose the road that led to the right
And, turning, disappeared in the thicket.
Nechosina, whether it was
And more, it seemed to me, was overgrown;
But overgrown was both.
And both attracted, pleasing the eye
Dry yellow leaves loose.
I kept the other in reserve
Although guesses in that hour
That is unlikely to come back I had the chance.
I'll remember someday
Far forest this morning:
After all, there was another before me the path
But I decided right roll -
And that solved everything.
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.

Life is fixed, say some,
Lightning, they say
And life flows along the bed like a river
Flows sadly and slowly,
So the emptiness to fill the void.

... Not change the crying
The fact that we all don't mean anything,
All gradually move away into the darkness
What passion, hope, glory and wealth
Go in single file in the cemetery of the brotherhood
The company to the talent and mind.

After all, if the sun is the main magician,
The moon, of course, the witch.

Touch me all around the house has passed,
Catching, like a blind, barely audible sounds,
I was careful, but apparently his hands
Wider than necessary, while lit,
Not seeing the door ajar, in the dark,
And the door between the hands at the forehead of the I - balls! -
So much so that barely stood on his feet!
Must be really familiar communication
People and things in our days cut short.

Wasted a lot of wasted effort
And in this sense there are certain.

"I really wandered far, walking,
Today
Around
There was silence so...
I leaned over the flower,
And suddenly
Heard thy voice, and you said
No, I poslyshatsya could not.
You spoke from that flower
On the windowsill, you whispered...
Do you remember his words?"
"No, you say first".
"Having found the flower,
Shaking off his beetle
And gently taking the blade,
I caught some kind of quiet sound.
It's like a whisper "come" -
No, wait,
Don't argue, because I could hear just fine!"
"I'd think, but not aloud."
"I came".

What man? Nothing, or object
The Lord's Umilenie and sorrow.
The philosopher was by universals
And absolute truths have seen the light -
And years of life showed
No truth, no there is no absolute.
The rabbit in the cylinder your secret.

A stalled trail herbal
The words we read on the stone slabs
Sometimes I wander alive
But dead the way here is closed.
And so says the tombstone verse:
"Those who today among the living,
These inscriptions read,
The next day will also be here."

Snow from the sky - with the night race, -
And the past as a field by the river:
As if all buried under the snow,
Only here and there turning yellow spikelets.
The forests around know not of the loss.
People and animals sleeping in burrows.
For the life I cling to forget
Involuntary solitude is embraced.
<...>
So needlessly frighten
The fact that the worlds are immense and mute
And heaven dead. Here, behind the doors,
Space as empty and terrible.

A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman's birthday but never remembers her age.
Diplomat man who always remembers about the day of birth of the woman, but never knows how old she is.

Above this world, dark and high,
Rose forest. Among the ice roads
Only he reigns. Animals huddled in their dens,
And I don't count. I was too lonely.
From loneliness and emptiness
There is no salvation. And dead bushes
Standing over the dead white snow.
There are fields around. Silent and empty.
I'm not afraid of no stars cold light,
Nor void of lifeless planets.
Me these are the desert,
Nothing worse in the world.

And upstairs, in the ethereal space,
A clock that ticks us century
Inspire: the Time - over good and evil.
Night, I'm truly familiar!