Date: November, 1930

"What's in your mind, my dove, my coney; / Do thoughts grow like feathers, the dead end of life; / Is it making of love or counting of money, / Or raid on the jewels, the plans of a thief?"

— Auden, W. H. (1907-1973)

Date: 1936

"Lids closed, the eyes are watchful; the brain / carefully stalks the thought like a tiger / following the accurately-scented prey / through tangled jungle foliage."

— Edwin Rolfe (1909-1954)

Date: 1942

A highbrow "is the man or woman of thoroughbred intelligence who rides his mind at a gallop across country in pursuit of an idea."

— Woolf, Virgina (1882-1941)

Date: 1942

"I shall keep them [my thoughts] to myself for a time, and when I am older / They will shine as a white worm shines under a green boulder."

— Smith, Stevie (1902-1971)

Date: March 17, 1950 [2005]

"One of those involuntary revealing thoughts one surprises, running like a rat through the muck-heap of my mind: Maybe I'll be able to afford that ikon if he goes."

— Friend, Donald (1915-1989)

Date: 1952

De la partie la plus noire de mon âme, à travers la zone hachurée me monte ce désir d'être tout à coup blanc [Out of the blackest part of my soul, through the zone of hachures, surges up this desire to be suddenly white].

— Fanon, Frantz (1925-1961)

Date: 1956

"All the old people I know have had their minds locked up like grey, scaly oysters since they were in their teens."

— Durrell, Gerald (1925-1995)

Date: 1958

"Such hectic extremes of gloom and gaiety are, indeed, characteristic of the manic-depressive, as with poor Crabbe's wife; in such persons the superego sits, as it were, like a great baleful cat, while the poor little cowed mouse of an ego creeps about with its tail between its legs; but at inter...

— Lucas, F. L. (1894-1967)

Date: 1963

"What I didn't say was that each time I picked up a German dictionary or a German book, the very sight of those dense, black, barbed-wire letters made my mind shut like a clam."

— Plath, Sylvia (1932-1963)

Date: 1963

"I stored the fact that there were real glasses in the corner of my mind the way a squirrel stores a nut."

— Plath, Sylvia (1932-1963)