Of course poets have morals and manners of their own, and custom is no argument with them.

The smile on your mouth was the deadest thing alive enough to have strength to die. (from "Neutral Tones")

My eyes were dazed by you for a little, and that was all.

Why it was that upon this beautiful feminine tissue, sensitive as gossamer, and practically blank as snow as yet, there should have been traced such a coarse pattern as it was doomed to receive; why so often the coarse appropriates the finer thus, the wrong man the woman, the wrong women the man, many years of analytical philosophy have failed to explain to our sense of order

The perfect woman, you see [is] a working-woman; not an idler; not a fine lady; but one who [uses] her hands and her head and her heart for the good of others.

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks; but I never had the chance of discovering in that way; and you did not help me!

If Galileo had said in verse that the world moved, the inquisition might have let him alone.