Date: 1746, 1749

"For Peace and War succeed by Turns in Love, / And while tempestuous these Emotions roll, / And float with blind Disorder in the Soul."

— Francis, Philip (1708-1773)

Date: Saturday March 24, 1750

"The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope."

— Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784)

Date: August 27, 1751

"She applies by turns to every object, enjoys it for a short time, and flies with equal ardour to another. She delights to catch up loose and unconnected ideas, but starts away from systems and complications which would obstruct the rapidity of her transitions, and detain her long in the same pur...

— Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784)

Date: August 27, 1751

"The painted vales of imagination are deserted, and our intellectual activity is exercised in winding through the labyrinths of fallacy, and toiling with firm and cautious steps up the narrow tracks of demonstration."

— Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784)

Date: August 27, 1751

"At length weariness succeeds to labour, and the mind lies at ease in the contemplation of her own attainments, without any desire of new conquests or excursions."

— Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784)

Date: November 1752, 1791

"Illustrious name, irrefragable proof / Of man's vast genius, and the soaring soul!"

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)

Date: April 10, 1753

"The same contrariety of impulse may be perhaps discovered in the motions of men: we are formed for society, not for combination; we are equally unqualified to live in a close connection with our fellow beings, and in total separation from them: we are attracted towards each other by general symp...

— Johnson, Samuel (1709-1784)

Date: 1755

"A thousand fond Requests / Croud on my Mind."

— Brown, John (1715-1766)

Date: 1758, 1781

"Hence then the Cause of all Defects is seen, / one wrong Movement spoils the whole Machine."

— Hawkins, William (1721-1801)

Date: 1758, 1781

"Alas! All Souls are subject to like Fate, / All sympathizing with the Body's State; / Let the fierce Fever burn thro' ev'ry Vein, / And drive the madding Fury to the Brain, / Nought can the Fervour of his Frenzy cool, / But Aristotle's self's a Parish Fool!"

— Hawkins, William (1721-1801)