You've got to love what's lovable, and hate what's hateable. It takes brains to see the difference. - Robert Frost

You've often heard me say – perhaps too often – that poetry is what is lost in translation. It is also what is lost in interpretation. That little poem means just what it says and it says what it means, nothing less but nothing more.

I shall set forth for somewhere, I shall make the reckless choice Some day when they are in voice And tossing so as to scare The white clouds over them on. I shall have less to say, But I shall be gone.

I only hope that when I am free,
as they are free to go in quest,
of the knowledge beyond the bounds of life,
it may not seem better to me to rest.