Date: January 29, 1737

"Nay, the Light of Reason, which we so much boast of, what is it but a Dark-Lanthorn, which just serves to keep us from running our Nose against a Post, perhaps; but is no more able to lead us out of the dark Mists of Error and Ignorance, in which we are lost, than an Ignis fatuus would be to co...

— Dodsley, Robert (1703-1764)

Date: 1738, 1792

"But soon a beam, emissive from above, / Shed mental day, and touch'd the heart with love; / Gave jealous rage to know Divine Controul, / And ruled the tempest rising in the soul."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"My GOD, what is a Human Heart? / Silver or Gold, or precious Stone; / Or Star, or Rainbow; or a Part / Of All, or all thy World in One?"

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: November, 1740

"The storms and tempests were not alone removed from nature; but those more furious tempests were unknown to human breasts."

— Hume, David (1711-1776)

Date: 1741 [1740]; continued in 1741

The "stormy Tumults" of a "disturbed Mind" may "be hush'd."

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1741 [1740]; continued in 1741

We wonder at our mischief we have done in passion just as "After a Tempest, when the Winds are laid, /The calm Sea wonders at the Wrecks it made"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1741 [1740]; continued in 1741

"For, let me tell my sweet Girl, that, after having been long tost by the boisterous Winds of a more culpable Passion, I have now conquer'd it, and am not so much the Victim of your Love, all charming as you are, as of your Virtue."

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1741 [1740]; continued in 1741

Mr. B's "Presence, like the Sun, has dissipated the Mists that hung upon my Mind"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1742

"Through chinks, styled organs, dim Life peeps at light; / Death bursts the' involving cloud, and all is day; / All eye, all ear, the disembodied power."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

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)