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 - Robert Frost

The best way out is always through.

A person will sometimes devote all his life to the development of one part of his body — the wishbone.

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.

There is a singer everyone has heard, Loud, a mid-summer and a mid-wood bird, Who makes the solid tree trunks sound again. He says that leaves are old and that for flowers Mid-summer is to spring as one to ten. He says the early petal-fall is past When pear and cherry bloom went down in showers On sunny days a moment overcast; And comes that other fall we name the fall. He says the highway dust is over all. The bird would cease and be as other birds But that he knows in singing not to sing. The question that he frames in all but words Is what to make of a diminished thing.