Date: 1724

"But what is conscience?--a thin empty name, / That terrifies, like ghosts, by fancy rais'd."

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: 1724

"Your passions late were wing'd, like vengeful whirlwinds, / Now they sink, sighing, to a gale of sorrow!"

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: 1724

"All my fierce passions rise with that reflection, / Inward they rage--a winding train takes fire, / The flashy blaze runs swift thro' ev'ry vein, / And my brain splits with agony!"

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: 1724

"My thoughts are furies all!--and turn upon me! / I feel their whips!--They lash me with remorse! / My brain grows hot!--Hell glows in my mad bosom!"

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: 1820

"How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, / Gape like a hell within!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"Yet am I king over myself, and rule / The torturing and conflicting throngs within, / As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"On a poet's lips I slept / Dreaming like a love-adept / In the sound his breathing kept; / Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, / But feeds on the aëreal kisses / Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)