Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
and sorry i could not travel both and be the 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 took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.
-robert frost
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