Date: 1742

"While o'er my limbs Sleep's soft dominion spread, / What though my soul fantastic measures trod / O'er fairy fields; or mourn'd along the gloom / Of pathless woods; or, down the craggy steep / Hurl'd headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool; / Or scaled the cliff; or danced on hollow winds, / W...

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Though silent long, and sleeping ne'er so sound, / Smother'd with errors, and oppress'd with toys, / That heaven-commission'd hour no sooner calls / But from her cavern in the soul's abyss, / Like him they fable under Ætna whelm'd, / The goddess bursts in thunder and in flame, / Loudly convinces...

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"I'll range the plenteous intellectual field; / And gather every thought of sovereign power, / To chase the moral maladies of man; / Thoughts which may bear transplanting to the skies, / Though natives of this coarse penurious soil; / Nor wholly wither there, where seraphs sing, / Refined, exalte...

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile: / The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry. / Our quick-returning folly cancels all; / As the tide rushing rases what is writ / In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Our needful knowledge, like our needful food, / Unhedged, lies open in life's common field, / And bids all welcome to the vital feast."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Sure as night follows day, / Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world, / When Pleasure treads the paths which Reason shuns."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

"In the coarse drudgeries and sinks of Sense, / Your souls have quite worn out the make of Heaven, / By vice new-cast, and creatures of your own."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

"Commanding, with omnipotence of thought, / Creations new in Fancy's field to rise! / Souls, that can grasp whate'er the Almighty made, / And wander wild through things impossible!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

"Are there on earth (let me not call them men) / Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts; / Unconscious as the mountain of its ore; / Or rock, of its inestimable gem? / When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these / Shall know their treasure; treasure then no more.

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1936

"Everything is sordid, shoddy, thin as pasteboard. A Coney Island of the mind."

— Miller, Henry (1891-1980)