Date: 1706, 1715 [1706-1721]

"Call in then your wandering reason, and put yourself in a condition to appear before her as good breeding requires."

— Anonymous

Date: 1706, 1715 [1706-1721]

"My spirit is tossed with a thousand tormenting things, and my thoughts destroy one another the same moment they are conceived, to make way for more; and so long as my body suffers by the impressions of my mind, how shall I be able to hold paper, or a reed to write."

— Anonymous

Date: 1742

"Its reign will spread thy glorious conquests far, / And still the tumults of thy ruffled breast: / Auspicious era! golden days, begin!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"At home a stranger, / Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, / And wondering at her own."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"A soul immortal, spending all her fires, / Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, / Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, / At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, / Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, / To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Where roll my thoughts / To rest from wonders? Other wonders rise; / And strike where'er they roll: my soul is caught; / Heaven's sovereign blessings, clustering from the cross, / Rush on her in a throng, and close her round, / The prisoner of amaze!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of Death, / To break the shock blind Nature cannot shun, / And lands Thought smoothly on the farther shore."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"But let not these inexpiable strains / Condemn the Muse that knows her dignity; / Nor meanly stops at Time, but holds the world--/ As 'tis, in Nature's ample field, a point--/ A point in her esteem; from whence to start, / And run the round of universal space, / To visit being universal there, ...

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Darkness has more divinity for me: / It strikes thought inward; it drives back the soul / To settle on herself, our point supreme! / There lies our theatre; there sits our judge."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Nor is it strange; light, motion, concourse, noise, / All scatter us abroad; Thought, outward-bound, / Neglectful of our home-affairs, flies off / In fume and dissipation, quits her charge, / And leaves the breast unguarded to the foe."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)