Date: 1796

"Behold the wretch, who from that cavern [a madhouse?--"Sad habitation of the lost, insane"] flies, / Hell in his heart, destruction in his eyes"

— Merry, Robert (1755-1798)

Date: 1796

"He ponders on the world,--abhors the whole; / While black as night, his gloomy thought expands / O'er life's perplexing paths, and barren sands"

— Merry, Robert (1755-1798)

Date: 1796, 1806

"A dread coincidence of time and act / Drew me from Reason's empire to Despair!"

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

Date: 1796, 1806

"O! blessings on thee!--soft, this ray of hope / Dazzles my aching senses, and I start / As from a dream of horror, where the brain, / Stampt with the semblance of some phantom dire / Reflects it, waking, to the fearful gaze!"

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

Date: 1796

"There lux'ry spreads profusion wide, / To glut the iron breast of pride!"

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

Date: 1796, 1817

"Full many a thought uncall'd and undetain'd, / And many idle flitting phantasies, / Traverse my indolent and passive brain, / As wild and various as the random gales / That swell and flutter on this subject Lute!"

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

Date: 1796, 1817

"And what if all of animated nature / Be but organic Harps diversely fram'd, / That tremble into thought, as o'er them sweeps / Plastic and vast, one intellectual breeze, / At once the Soul of each, and God of all?"

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

Date: 1796, 1806

"Ambition!--not that emulative zeal Which wings the tow'ring souls of godlike men! / But bold, oppressive, self-created pow'r, / That, trampling o'er the barrier of the laws, / And scattering wide the tender shoots of pity, / Strikes at the root of reason, and confines / Nature itself in bondage!"

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

Date: 1796

"The mind of a young woman lady should be clear and unsullied, like a sheet of white paper, or her own fairer face"

— Hays, Mary (1760-1843)

Date: 1797

"Thus on the golden thread that Fancy weaves / Buoyant, as Hope's illusive flattery breathes, / The young and visionary Poet leaves / Life's dull realities, while sevenfold wreaths / Of rainbow light around his head revolve."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)