I feel a little weird about how many people reach my 2010 November quotes post in search of quotes about the month of November, of which there are none on my blog at all.
To compound my guilt, I will post this poem by Robert Frost. It is entitled "November" and--like my quotes post--has very little to do with the month.
November
We saw leaves go to glory,
Then almost migratory
Go part way down the lane,
And then to end the story
Get beaten down and pasted
In one wild day of rain.
We heard "'Tis Over" roaring.
A year of leaves was wasted.
Oh, we made a boast of storing,
Of saving and keeping,
But only by ignoring
The waste of moments sleeping,
The waste of pleasure weeping,
By denying and ignoring
The waste of nations warring.
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