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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair, And having perhaps the better claim, The Road Not Taken Robert Frost. Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh, I kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way, I doubted if I should ever come back. 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.
Beatles Come Together
Bob Dylan Times Are Changing
MyselfI have to live with myself and so I want to be fit for myself to know. I want to be able as days go by, always to look myself straight in the eye; I don't want to stand with the setting sun and hate myself for the things I have done . I don't want to keep on a closet shelf a lot of secrets about myself and fool myself as I come and go into thinking no one else will ever know the kind of person I really am, I don't want to dress up myself in sham. I want to go out with my head erect I want to deserve all men's respect; but here in the struggle for fame and wealth I want to be able to like myself. I don't want to look at myself and know that I am bluster and bluff and empty show . I never can hide myself from me; I see what others may never see; I know what others may never know, I never can fool myself and so, whatever happens I want to be self respecting and conscience free. Myself Edgar Albert Guest
Drifting by Kit McCallum I sometimes find I'm drifting Through this life without effect; I often wonder if I'm truly Worth what I've been blessed. I search through days that have been hard, To try to understand, The many trials that I have known, The life that I have had. You see me in my daily grind, So confident and strong; Yet when I am alone, I question Just where I belong. I often try too hard I find, To analyze and guess, To scrutinize, investigate My life I will confess. For somewhere deeper, there must be Some meaning to this life, Some way to make a difference, Give a reason for this strife. Is there some hidden meaning? Some agenda to be found? A greater purpose waiting If I care to hang around? It teases and it taunts me, Always slightly out of sight; A hazy vision out of reach, Where darkness hides the light. I struggle to bring clarity To what awaits me there, And yet this weak illusion Always fades before my stare. It seems the harder that I try, To focus through the haze, Just serves to add more questions, Through my endless, tired gaze. Perhaps I'm trying just too hard, To understand it all, For can we ever truly know Just what we have in store? Each incident, each moment passed, Just adds upon the next, But in the end, will I find truth ... Or will I be perplexed? Perhaps I make it harder Than it has to be sometimes, But will my searching bring to me My meaning over time? Or will it leave me broken, And confused as I feel now, While questions bring no solitude, To this, my wrinkled brow.
A Man In His Life by Yehuda Amichai A man doesn't have time in his life to have time for everything. He doesn't have seasons enough to have a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes Was wrong about that. A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment, to laugh and cry with the same eyes, with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them, to make love in war and war in love. And to hate and forgive and remember and forget, to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest what history takes years and years to do. A man doesn't have time. When he loses he seeks, when he finds he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves he begins to forget. And his soul is seasoned, his soul is very professional. Only his body remains forever an amateur. It tries and it misses, gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing, drunk and blind in its pleasures and its pains.
