Date: 1737, 1743

"We should manage our Thoughts in composing a Poem, as Shepherds do their Flowers in making a Garland; first select the Choicest, and then dispose them in the most proper places, where they give a Lusture to each other: Like the Feathers in Indian Crowns, which are so managed that every one refle...

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1737, 1743

"Some Men’s Wit is like a dark Lanthorn, which serves their own Turn, and guides them their own Way; but is never known (according to the Scripture Phrase) either to 'shine forth before Men', or to 'glorifie their Father who is in Heaven'."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1737, 1743

"The People all running to the Capital City, is like a Confluence of all the Animal Spirits to the Heart; a Symptom that the Constitution is in Danger."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1737

"You see 'tis with weak heads as with weak stomachs, they immediately throw out what they received last; and what they read floats upon the surface of their mind, like oil upon water, without incorporating."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: w. 1737, published 1738

"A Voice there is, that whispers in my ear, / ('Tis Reason's voice, which sometimes one can hear)."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: w. 1737, published 1738

"Long, as to him who works for debt, the Day; / Long as the Night to her whose love's away; / Long as the Year's dull circle seems to run, / When the brisk Minor pants for twenty-one; / So slow th' unprofitable Moments roll, / That lock up all the Functions of my soul; / That keep me from Myself;...

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: w. 1737, published 1738

"But when no Prelate's Lawn with Hair-shirt lin'd, / Is half so incoherent as my Mind, / When (each Opinion with the next at strife, / One ebb and flow of follies all my Life) / I plant, root up, I build, and then confound, / Turn round to square, and square again to round."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1739, 1740

"Was there one joy, whose image does not last? / But that One; most extatic, most refin'd, / Reigns fresh, and will for ever in my mind, / With such a power of charms it storm'd my soul, / That nothing ever can it's strength controul."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1740

"The quiet of Our mind destroys, / Or with a full spring-tide of joys, / Or a dead-ebb of grief. "

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1741

"But self-conceitedness does reign / In every mortal mind."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)