Date: 1777

"If they say, that affection is a mere involuntary impulse, neither waiting the decisions of reason, or the dissuasive of prudence, do they not in reality degrade us to machines, which are blindly actuated by some uncontrollable power?"

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"If you marry a man of a certain sort, such as the romance of young minds generally paints for a husband, you will deride the supposition of any possible decrease in the ardour of your affections."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"You would not bid me adieu till the ship was getting under way: I believe you judged aright, if you meant to spare us both: the bustle of the scene, the rattling of the sails, the noise of the sailors, had a mechanical effect on the mind, and stifled those tender feelings, which we indulge in so...

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"The love, to which at length I discovered my heart to be subject, had conquered without tumult, and become despotic under the semblance of freedom."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"He felt the assiduity of my friendship, and I saw him grateful for its exertion; yet would the idea of being obliged, often rankle in his mind."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"With regard to himself, however, he accepts of the common opinion, as a sort of coin, which passes current, though it is not always real, and often seems to yield up the conviction of his own mind in compliance to the general voice."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

One may perceive "a tincture of melancholy enthusiasm" in the mind

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"When his reason returned, it settled into a melancholy, which time has soothed, not extinguished, which indeed seems to have become the habitual tone of his mind."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"I retire to the family of my own thoughts, and find them in weeds of sorrow."

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)

Date: 1777

"There is a certain kind of trifling, in which a mind not much at ease can sometimes indulge itself. One feels an escape, as it were, from the heart, and is fain to take up with lighter company. It is like the theft of a truant boy, who goes to play for a few minutes while his master is asleep, a...

— Mackenzie, Henry (1745-1831)