Pain or love or danger makes you real again.

My aunt once said that the world would never find peace until men fell at their women's feet and asked for forgiveness.

It was the work of the quiet mountains$$$ this torrent of purity at my feet.

If you owe your bank a hundred pounds$$$ you have a problem. But if you owe a million$$$ it has.

I had to keep on acting deaf if i wanted to hear at all.

It was all completely serious$$$ all completely hallucinated$$$ all completely happy.

I was too much in solitude$$$ and consequently was obliged to be in continual burning of thought$$$ as an only resource.

You are to me an object so intensely desirable that the air I breathe in a room empty of you is unhealthy.

A poet is the most unpoetical of anything in existence because he has no identity — he is continually infirming and filling some other body.

No man becomes bad all at once.