I hate commas in the wrong places.
I heard what was said of the universe, heard it and heard it of several thousand years; it is middling well as far as it goes - but is that all?
You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here, I believe much unseen is also here
I love doctors and hate their medicine.
The smallest sprout shows there is really no death.
Everybody is writing, writing, writing - worst of all, writing poetry. It'd be better if the whole tribe of the scribblers - every damned one of us - were sent off somewhere with tool chests to do some honest work.