"..a world of adventure out there.." eelaine's Profile

don't remember where this is.. :P

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,
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.

robert frost

awana porto malai boardwalk in langkawi, malaysia

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds'
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O, no! it is an ever fixed-mark,
That looks on tempests and is never shaken:
It is the star to every wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters now with his brief hours and weeks
But bears it out even to the edge of doom;
If this be error and upon me prov'd,
never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

william shakespeare

view from poon hill in nepal

The soldier loves his rifle
The scholar loves his books
The farmer loves his horses
The filmstar loves her looks
There's love the whole world over
Wherever you may be
Some lose their rest for gay Mae West
But you're my cup of tea.

Some talk of Alexander
And some of Fred Astaire
Some like their heroes hairy
Some like them debonair
Some prefer a curate
And some an ADC
Some like 'em tough and treat 'em rough
But you're my cup of tea.

Some are mad on Airedales
And some on Pekinese
On tabby cats or parrots
Or guinea pigs or geese
There are patients in asylums
Who think that they're a tree
I had an aunt who loved a plant
But you're my cup of tea.

Some have a bulbous nose
Some a floating kidney
And some have hammertoes
Some have tennis elbow
And some have housemaid's knee
And some I know have got BO
But you're my cup of tea.

The blackbird loves the earthworm
The adder loves the sun
The polar bear an iceberg
The elephant a bun
The trout enjoys the river
The whale enjoys the sea
And dogs love most an old lamppost
But you're my cup of tea.

w.h. auden

detian waterfalls in guangxi, china

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vest the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers;
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breath were life. Life piled on life
Were all to little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this gray spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the scepter and the isle
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfill
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centered in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads you and I are old;
Old age had yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,
Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in the old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are,
One equal-temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

alfred lord tennyson