Life$$$ like a dome of many-coloured glass$$$ stains the white radiance of Eternity.

I have neither curiosity$$$ interest$$$ pain nor pleasure$$$ in anything$$$ good or evil$$$ they can say of me. I feel only a slight disgust$$$ and a sort of wonder that they presume to write my name.

Poetry is a mirror which makes beautiful that which is distorted.

Our sweetest songs are those of saddest thought.

You throw a torch into a pile of buildings$$$ and when they are consumed$$$ you sit among the ruins and lament the fall.

I was required to exchange chimeras of boundless grandeur for realities of little worth.

But now misery has come home$$$ and men appear to me as monsters thirsting for each other's blood.

All men hate the wretched.

I looked upon the sea$$$ it was to be my grave.

I am not a person of opinions because I feel the counter arguments too strongly.