Date: 1819

"He is styed in his prejudices -- he wallows in the mire of his senses -- he cannot get beyond the trough of his sordid appetites, whether it is of gold or wood."

— Hazlitt, William (1778-1830)

Date: 1820

"How to entangle, trammel up and snare / Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there / Like the hid scent in an unbudded rose?"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"When from the slope side of a suburb hill, / Deafening the swallow's twitter, came a thrill / Of trumpets--Lycius started--the sounds fled, / But left a thought, a buzzing in his head."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: August 16, 1820

"And is not this extraordina[r]y talk for the writer of Endymion? whose mind was like a pack of scattered cards--I am pick'd up and sorted to a pip."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"[A]nd she began to moan and sigh / Because he mused beyond her, knowing well / That but a moment's thought is passion's passing bell."

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1820

"How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror, / Gape like a hell within!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"Yet am I king over myself, and rule / The torturing and conflicting throngs within, / As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1820

"On a poet's lips I slept / Dreaming like a love-adept / In the sound his breathing kept; / Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses, / But feeds on the aëreal kisses / Of shapes that haunt thought's wildernesses."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

"Dust to the dust! but the pure spirit shall flow / Back to the burning fountain whence it came."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1821

And "if the seal is set, / Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, / Break it not thou!"

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)