Date: 1922

"I plucked my soul out of its secret place, / And held it to the mirror of my eye, / To see it like a star against the sky, / A twitching body quivering in space, / A spark of passion shining on my face."

— McKay, Claude (1889-1948)

Date: 1922

"The joy in your maturity at length, / The peace that filled my soul like cooling wine, / When you responded to my tender strength, / And pressed your heart exulting into mine."

— McKay, Claude (1889-1948)

Date: 1922

"How shall I with such memories of you / In coarser forms of love fruition find? / No, I would rather like a ghost pursue / The fairy phantoms of my lonely mind."

— McKay, Claude (1889-1948)

Date: 1923

"Her mind is like a sundial: It records only pleasantness."

— Wilstach, Frank J.

Date: 1923

"It stamps its imprint upon the whole consciousness of man; his qualities and abilities are no longer an organic part of his personality, they are things which he can 'own' or 'dispose of' like the various objects of the external world."

— Lukács, Georg [György] (1885-1971)

Date: 1924

"But circumstance cannot deepen or lighten the colour of a man’s mind; if we bring anything into the world it is the colour of our minds, and what is the colour of our minds but fate? and what is fate but character?"

— Moore, George Augustus (1852-1933)

Date: 1926

"In the goods yard at Paddington she had almost pounced on the clue, the clue to the secret country of her mind."

— Warner, Sylvia Townsend (1893-1978)

Date: 1927

"Also the sea tosses itself and breaks itself, and should any sleeper fancying that he might find on the beach an answer to his doubts, a sharer of his solitude, throw off his bedclothes and go down by himself to walk on the sand, no image with semblance of serving and divine promptitude comes re...

— Woolf, Virgina (1882-1941)

Date: 1931

"My Waxen heart, when near the Flame, / Yields to th' imprinted mould" but "hardens in the Cold"

— Tickell, Thomas (1685-1740)

Date: September, 1934

"This weight of knowledge dark on the brain is never / To be burnt out like fever, // But will slowly, with speech to tell the way and ease it, / Will sink into the blood, and warm, and slowly / Move in the veins, and murmur, and come at length / To the tongue's tip and the finger's tip most lowl...

— Miles, Josephine (1911-1985)