Date: 1742

"O treacherous Conscience! while she seems to sleep / On rose and myrtle, lull'd with siren song; / While she seems, nodding o'er her charge, to drop / On headlong appetite the slacken'd rein, / And give us up to licence, unrecall'd, / Unmark'd,---see, from behind her secret stand, / The sly info...

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Our freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire; / In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar / Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust; / Dismounted every great and glorious aim; / Embruted every faculty divine; / Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Souls [are] elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire / To reach the distant skies, and triumph there / On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changed; / Though we from earth, ethereal they that fell."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field; / Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit / Of due restraint; and emulation's spur / Gives graceful energy, by rivals awed."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines, / And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive,-- / What is she but the means of happiness?"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"On minds of dove-like innocence possess'd, / On lighten'd minds, that bask in Virtue's beams, / Nothing hangs tedious; nothing old revolves / In that for which they long, for which they live."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"Life makes the soul dependent on the dust; / Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round / In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, / Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er / With soft conceit of endless comfort here, / Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"So bounded are its haughty lord's delights / To Woe's wide empire; where deep troubles toss, / Loud sorrows howl, envenom'd passions bite, / Ravenous calamities our vitals seize, / And threatening fate wide opens to devour."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: February 28, 2025

"Because yeah, claiming that Russia did not invade Ukraine and that Zelenskyy is some kind of dictator sure sounds like Putin is attached to Trump’s brain like some kind of space slug, even if a few days later Trump denied he said it."

— Jones, Marcie