Date: 1691

"The Tongue is connexed by Veins to the Brain and Heart, by which Nature teacheth us, that it is to be govern'd by the Intellect, whose seat is in the head, so that it may agree with the Heart."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Towards the end of which Chapter Evander confesses his Wit has a little run away with him; so ungovernable a thing is towring Fancy, when not hand-cufft by powerful Reason, flying out against Learning, beloved Learning, at so Satyrical a rate as almost makes his heart bleed to read it, when he t...

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"'Tis true, I have always an Idea in my Soul which presents me a better form than what I have in this Book made use of, but I cannot catch it, nor fit it to my purpose."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"But though there is nothing in this Book I have cudgel'd my Brains about, yet I must confess, during my Prenticeship, I was a kind of Persecutor of Nature, and would fain then have chang'd the dull Lead of my Brain into finer Mettal."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"I wear my Wit in my Belly, and my Guts in my Head, a very Natural might bob my Brains, my Pia-mater is not worth the ninth part of a Sparrow."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

'My very Brains (as Manichæus's Skin) are stuff'd with Chaff."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Were there any Metempsychosis, my Soul would want a Lodging, no single Beast could fit me; for I shou'd out of pure love to novelty change more Lodgings than ever Pythagoras's Soul did."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"Twice every day a thousand Fancies and Fegaries crowd into my Noddle so thick as if my Brain kept open-house for all the Maggots in nature."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"So that, Reader, you see my Soul is a proper Tenant for the House it lives in; both which were naturally ill Match'd, to shew, that a generous Spirit may be lodg'd under any shape."

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)

Date: 1691

"But alas, I had not been sixty minutes Alphabetizing and sorting of Books before my old Rambling Maggot began to crawl and bite afresh; upon which I immediately grew as fickle and wavering as if I had drank Liquor distill'd from a Womans Brains; and nothing would satisfie me now till I saw the S...

— Dunton, John (1659–1732)