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.

How many things have to happen to you before something occurs to you?

To be social is to be forgiving.

Everything written is as good as it is dramatic. It need not declare itself in form, but it is drama or nothing.

What is required is sight and insight- then you might add one more: excite.

When a friend calls to me from the road And slows his horse to a meaning walk, I don't stand still and look around On all the hills I haven't hoed, And shout from where I am, What is it? No, not as there is a time to talk. I thrust my hoe in the mellow ground, Blade-end up and five feet tall, And plod: I go up to the stone wall For a friendly visit.

Two such as you with such a master speed Cannot be parted nor be swept away