Date: 1815

"With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay; / Tir'd of its suff'rings here below, / I'll loose it from this scene of woe; / I'll prune its wings and let it fly, / To seek again its native sky."

— Combe, William (1742 -1823)

Date: 1816

"Know, lovely virgin, thy deluding art / Hath lodg'd a thousand scorpions in my breast."

— Wolcot, John, pseud. Peter Pindar, (1738-1819)

Date: May 26, 1816

"The impression slides off from the eye, and does not, like the tones of Titian's pencil, leave a sting behind it in the mind of the spectator."

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1817

"The poetic PSYCHE, in its process to full development, undergoes as many changes as its Greek name-sake, the butterfly."

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

Date: 1817

"Most of my readers will have observed a small water-insect on the surface of rivulets, which throws a cinque-spotted shadow fringed with prismatic colours on the sunny bottom of the brook; and will have noticed, how the little animal wins its way up against the stream, by alternate pulses of act...

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

Date: August 1817

"There is no natural harmony in the ordinary combinations of significant sounds: the language of prose is not the language of music, or of passion: and it is to supply this inherent defect in the mechanism of language--to make the sound an echo to the sense, when the sense becomes a sort of echo ...

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1818

Love is a fluttering in the heart or rather a "Young feather'd tyrant"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818

"Great Muse, thou know'st what prison, / Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets / Our spirit's wings."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818 (1819?)

"His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings / He furleth close."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1818 (1819?)

"He has his Summer, when luxuriously / Spring's honied cud of youthful thought he loves / To ruminate"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)