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.
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost