Date: 1787-1818

"The countless gold of a merry heart / The rubies & pearls of a loving eye / The indolent never can bring to the mart / Nor the secret hoard up in his treasury"

— Blake, William (1757-1827)

Date: w. 1787-1818

"You say reserve & modesty he has / Whose heart is iron his head wood & his face brass."

— Blake, William (1757-1827)

Date: 1788

"The same warmth which determined her will make her repent; and sorrow, the rust of the mind, will never have a chance of being rubbed off by sensible conversation, or new-born affections of the heart."

— Wollstonecraft, Mary (1759-1797)

Date: 1788

"In a state of bliss, it will be the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great part of our happiness."

— Wollstonecraft, Mary (1759-1797)

Date: 1788

""Ah! will you not there hear me? Will you still inhumanly smile; will you still look so gentle, while your heart is harder than the rocks we shall see--colder than the snow that crowns them!--an heart on which even the pen of fire which Rousseau held would make no impression!"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1788

"But tho' she was immoveably determined against receiving him again as a lover, she had not been able to steel her heart against his melancholy appearance; his palid countenance, his ematiated form, extremely affected her."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1788

"As to you, my sweet marble-hearted Emmeline, I heartily pray that all your coldness both towards me and poor Delamere may be revenged by your feeling, on behalf of him, all the pain you have inflicted."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: 1788

"For Virtue, with divine controul, / Collects the various powers of soul; / And lends, from her unsullied source, / The gems of thought their purest force."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"True courage in the unconquer'd soul / Yields to Compassion's mild controul; / As, the resisting frame of steel / The magnet's secret force can feel."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"Or, if where savage habit steels / The vulgar mind, one bosom feels / The sacred claim of helpless woe-- / If Pity in that soil can grow; / Pity! whose tender impulse darts / With keenest force on nobler hearts; / As flames that purest essence boast, / Rise highest when they tremble most."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)