Date: April 18, 1721

"Oh, what a Pain to think! when every Thought, / Perplexing Thought in Intricacies runs, / And Reason knits th'inextricable Toil / In which her self is taken. I am lost, / Poor Insect that I am, I am involv'd, / And bury'd in the Web my self have wrought."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Thoughts disentangle, passing o'er the lip; / Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away / Or kept to tie up nonsense for a song; / Song, fashionably fruitless; such as stains / The fancy, and unhallow'd passion fires; / Chiming her saints to Cytherea's fane."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round / In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, / Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er / With soft conceit of endless comfort here, / Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744

"Or, spider-like, spin out our precious all, / Our more than vitals spin (if no regard / To great futurity) in curious webs / Of subtle thought, and exquisite design, / (Fine net-work of the brain!) to catch a fly, / The momentary buzz of vain renown, / A name, a mortal immortality?"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)