I'd just as soon play tennis with the net down.
No memory of having starred atones for later disregard, or keeps the end from being hard.
I heard someone say he [Carl Sandburg] was the kind of writer who had everything to gain and nothing to lose by being translated into another language.
The sun was warm but the wind was chill. You know how it is with an April day.
An idea is a feat of association.
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting.