Date: 1722, 1725

"I got into an Arbor in the Garden, to peruse the dear Contents, which I very well remember, and are too deeply engraven in my Mind, ever to be forgotten."

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1722, 1725

"LOVE! as it is one of the first Passions for which the Soul finds room, so it is also the most easily deceiv'd"

— Haywood [née Fowler], Eliza (1693?-1756)

Date: 1722, 1739

"His waking Pensiveness, and the warm Bed, brought his Mistress afresh into his Heart; and powerful Love became Conqueror of all the Passions, for no sooner broke the Day, but he resolved to shake off all timorous Apprehensions, and haste to his dear expecting Livia."

— Aubin, Penelope (1679?-1731?)

Date: 1722, 1739

"The cruel Injuries you have lately done me, my dear Sebastian, are not sufficient to blot the Memory of you out of my tender Heart."

— Aubin, Penelope (1679?-1731?)

Date: 1722, 1739

"Thoughts of what I must suffer by the Loss of Don Antonio were crowded in my Imagination, and left no Room for Rest."

— Aubin, Penelope (1679?-1731?)

Date: 1722, 1739

"Rather discard this baneful Love, throw off the weighty Chains, banish the fair one from your Breast, return to your Country, be a Blessing to you Parents, and take this glorious Opportunity to free you from the Bondage of your Mind as well as Body."

— Aubin, Penelope (1679?-1731?)

Date: 1723

In one's Garret-Closet one's Muse may "take Possession": "Poetry being one of those subtle Devils, that if driven out by never so many firm Purposes, good Resolutions, Aversion to that Poverty it intails upon its Adherents; yet it will always return and find a Passage to the Heart, Brain, ...

— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)

Date: 1723

"Cease, prithee, Muse, thus to infest / The barren Region of my Breast, / Which never can an Harvest yield, / Since Weeds of Noise o'er-run the Field."

— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)

Date: 1723

"Covetousness we may truly call, The Dropsie of the Mind, it being an insatiable Thirst of Gain"

— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)

Date: 1723

"Your Letter has so ruffled my whole Interior, that I know not how to write common Sense."

— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)