Date: 1700, 1705

"Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one, / Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1700, 1705

"Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive, / Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give: / Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth, / Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1702

"Vice is a Thief, a Traytor in the Mind, / Assassinates the Vitals of Mankind."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719

"I call'd a Council, that is to say, in my Thoughts, whether I should take back the Raft, but this appear'd impracticable."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719

"It is as impossible as needless, to set down the innumerable Crowd of Thoughts that whirl'd through that great Thorowfair of the Brain, the Memory, in this Night's Time."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1719

One may have "several times loud Calls from [his] Reason and [his] more composed Judgment to go home"

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1722

"[A]s to the Arguments which my Reason dictated for perswading me to lay down, Avarice stept in and said, go on, you have had very good luck, go on, till you have gotten Four or Five Hundred Pound, and then you shall leave off, and then you may live easie without working at all."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1722, 1723

"For Jesus sake, remove not my Distress, / Till free Triumphant Grace shall Reposess / The Vacant Throne; from whence my Sins Depart, / And make a willing Captive of my Heart."

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1724

"All these Thoughts, and many more, crowded in so fast, I say, upon me, that I wanted to give Vent to them, and get rid of him, and was very glad when he was gone away"

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)

Date: 1724

"[S]o with my Eyes open, and with my Conscience, as I may say, awake, I sinn'd, knowing it to be a Sin, but having no Power to resist; when this had thus made a Hole in my Heart, and I was come to such a height, as to transgress against the Light of my own Conscience, I was then fit for any Wicke...

— Defoe, Daniel (1660?-1731)