Whose woods these are, I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

- Robert Frost

Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

But don't eat too much,
And don't drink too much,
And most of all,

Never forget that grief is like shadows on the canvas of your life.
It's what provides contrast between the light and the dark.
The farther you fall, the deeper the blacks,
and the more clearly you can see and admire
the brilliantly bright times.

And those days when you neither laugh nor cry,
neither hate nor love,
neither fear nor feel...

Those are the days that provide texture;
that let you show your true colors,
where neither light nor dark can obscure them.

May you find those days rich with decision and action.

May your canvas be filled with paths:
followed and abandoned,
maintained and neglected,
loved and avoided.

All lined crisply with contrast,
ending in brilliant light
as often as mucilaginous shadow.
And throughout it all...

Don't forget to Eat,
and Don't forget to Drink,
and Don't forget to Be Merry,

Whenever, wherever you can.

- Mini