"By working faithfully eight hours a day you may eventually get to be boss and work twelve hours a day."
"The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift, The road is forlorn all day, Where a myriad snowy quartz stones lift, And the hoof-prints vanish away. The roadside flowers, too wet for the bee, Expend their bloom in vain. Come over the hills and far with me, And be my love in the rain."
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Source: Robert Frost, Thomas Fasano (2008). “Selected Early Poems of Robert Frost”, p.40, Coyote Canyon Press
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