Date: 1654

"We often see stones hang with drops not from any innate moisture, but from a thick air about them; so may we sometime see marble-hearted sinners seem full of contrition, but it is not from any dew of grace within but from some black clouds that impends them, which produces these sweating effects."

— Bradstreet, Anne (1612-1672)

Date: 1654

"The eyes and the ears are the inlets or doors of the soul, through which innumerable objects enter."

— Bradstreet, Anne (1612-1672)

Date: 1654

"The certainty that that time will come, together with the uncertainty, how, where, and when, should make us so to number our days to apply our hearts to wisdom, that when we are put out of these houses of clay we may be sure of an everlasting habitation that fades not away."

— Bradstreet, Anne (1612-1672)

Date: c. 1680

"While man unmarr'd abode, his Spirits all / In Vivid hue were active in their hall."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)

Date: c. 1680

"A thousand Griefs attending on the same. / Which march in ranck and file, proceed to make / A Battery, and the fort of Life to take."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)

Date: c. 1680

"Which when the Centinalls did spy, the Heart / Did beate alarum up in every part."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)

Date: c. 1680

"The Vitall Spirits apprehend thereby / Exposde to danger great suburbs ly, / The which they do desert, and speedily / The Fort of Life the Heart, they Fortify, / The Heart beats up still by her Pulse to Call / Out of the outworks her train Souldiers all / Which quickly come hence."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)

Date: 1706

"Let us make a Trial, Whether they that have been Scorched and Blacken'd by the Sun of Africa, may not come to have their Minds Healed by the more Benign Beams of the Sun of Righteousness."

— Mather, Cotton (1663-1728)

Date: 1706

"My Heart is full of Sin; My Life is full of Sin; I am under the wrath of God for Sin; I am a Slave to Sin and Satan."

— Mather, Cotton (1663-1728)

Date: 1682-1735

"I am this crumb of dust which is design'd / To make my Pen unto thy Praise alone, / And my dull Phancy I would gladly grinde / Unto an Edge on Zions Pretious Stone."

— Taylor, Edward (1642-1729)