Date: 1789

"I bid the traitor Love, adieu! / Who to this fond, believing bosom came, / A guest insidious and untrue, / With Pity's soothing voice--in Friendship's name."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

Date: w. January 24, 1789

"Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone; / Each thought intoxicated homage yields, / And riots wanton in forbidden fields."

— Burns, Robert (1759-1796)

Date: 1789, 1800

"Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe, / And think Human Nature they truly describe"

— Burns, Robert (1759-1796)

Date: 1790

"The dreadful tales of robbers' bloody deeds, / That oft had swell'd his theme while nightly stretch'd / Now crowded on his mind in all their rage / Of pistols, purses, stand! deliver! death!"

— Wilson, Alexander (1766-1813)

Date: 1790, 1794, 1795, 1818, 1827

"Thus men forgot that All deities reside in the human breast."

— Blake, William (1757-1827)

Date: 1790

"It was not in the rapid intricacies of execution, that she excelled so much as in that delicacy of taste, and in those enchanting powers of expression, which seem to breathe a soul through the sound, and which take captive the heart of the hearer."

— Radcliffe [née Ward], Ann (1764-1823)

Date: 1790

"Deadly ideas crowded upon their imaginations, and inspired a terror which scarcely allowed them to breathe."

— Radcliffe [née Ward], Ann (1764-1823)

Date: 1790

"The ideas of the distance which would separate them, of the dangers she was going to encounter, with a train of wild and fearful anticipations, crowded upon her mind, tears sprang in her eyes, and it was with difficulty she avoided betraying her emotions."

— Radcliffe [née Ward], Ann (1764-1823)

Date: 1790

"Her conscience whispered her that the dislike was mutual; and she now rejoiced in the opportunity which seemed to offer itself, of lowering the proud integrity of Madame's character."

— Radcliffe [née Ward], Ann (1764-1823)

Date: 1790

"Love comes to the bosom under the gentle forms of esteem, of sympathy, of confidence: we listen with dangerous pleasure to the seducing accents of his voice, till he lifts the fatal veil which concealed him from our view, and reigns a tyrant in the soul. Reason is then an oracle no longer consul...

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)