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Two roads diverged in a yellow Cassia fistula wood, and sorry I could not walk both and be one lonesome, long I stood and looked down one as far as I could to where it bent in the undregrowth; then took the other, as just as fair, and having perhaps the better decision, because it was grassy and wanted wear; thought as for that the passing there had worn them really about the same, and both that morning almostly sink in leaves no step had trodden black.
Demn, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way; I bewildered if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sign 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 anything I done.
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