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.

I cut my own hair. I got sick of barbers because they talk too much. And too much of their talk was about my hair coming out.

It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling To get adapted to my kind of fooling.

God made a beauteous garden With lovely flowers strown, But one straight, narrow pathway That was not overgrown. And to this beauteous garden He brought mankind to live, And said "To you, my children, These lovely flowers I give. Prune ye my vines and fig trees, With care my flowers tend, But keep the pathway open Your home is at the end." God's Garden

You're always believing ahead of your evidence. What was the evidence I could write a poem? I just believed it. The most creative thing in us is to believe in a thing.

The people I want to hear about are the people who take risks.

A bank is a place where they lend you an umbrella in fair weather and ask for it back when it begins to rain.