Date: 1818

"The Beings of the Mind are not of clay: / Essentially immortal, they create / And multiply in us a brighter ray / And more beloved existence"

— Byron, George Gordon Noel, sixth Baron Byron (1788-1824)

Date: 1818

"It is strictly the language of the imagination; and the imagination is that faculty which represents objects, not as they are in themselves, but as they are moulded by other thoughts and feelings, into an infinite variety of shapes and combinations of power."

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1819

"Such acts will stamp their moral on the soul"

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1819

"'Well I can call to mind the managed air / 'That gave no comfort, that brought no despair, / 'That in a dubious balance held the mind, / 'To each side turning, never much inclined."

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1819

"'She kept a sort of balance in the mind, / 'And as his pole a dancer on the rope, / 'The equal poise on both sides kept me up."

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1819

"'Just at this time the balance of the mind / 'Is this or that way by the weights inclined; / 'In this scale beauty, wealth in that abides, / 'In dubious balance, till the last subsides;"

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1819

"If he was arbitrary and a tyrant, first, France as a country was in a state of military blockade, on garrison-duty, and not to be defended by mere paper bullets of the brain; secondly, but chief, he was not, nor he could not become, a tyrant by right divine."

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1819

"He is styed in his prejudices -- he wallows in the mire of his senses -- he cannot get beyond the trough of his sordid appetites, whether it is of gold or wood."

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1820

"How to entangle, trammel up and snare / Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there / Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"When from the slope side of a suburb hill, / Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill / Of trumpets--Lycius started--the sounds fled, / But left a thought, a buzzing in his head."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)