Poetry is what gets lost in translation. - Robert Frost

By faithfully working eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day.

You are all probably taking literature classes in which the professors teach how to get behind authors' words to determine their deeper meanings. In my case, they teach that the crow shaking snow from a hemlock tree means that evil, black, stands in contrast to the pure white good of the snow around it, like in life. They are wrong. I saw the crow, and the tree, and the snow. It was beautiful. I stopped to enjoy it. Period.

Who said it mattered / what monkeys did or didn't understand? / They might not understand the burning-glass. / They might not understand the sun itself. / It's knowing what to do with things that counts.