The worst disease which can afflict executives in their work is not, as popularly supposed, alcoholism; it's egotism.

Poetry is about the grief. Politics is about the grievance.

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.

If you're looking for something to be brave about, consider fine arts.

The sweet of bitter bark And burning clove.

Fireflies in the Garden By 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.

He says the best way out is always through. / And I can agree to that, or in so far / As that I can see no way out but through