Date: 1911

"You are no longer the slave of those successive atoms into which sleep divides you."

— Lewis, Edwin Herbert (1866-1938)

Date: 1911

"Sensations rain in on you as in a dream, but you suppress all but what are useful for your conscious purpose."

— Lewis, Edwin Herbert (1866-1938)

Date: 1911

"A friend may almost literally pour out his soul into our waiting ears, or we may almost literally read it in his eyes."

— Lewis, Edwin Herbert (1866-1938)

Date: 1911

"I shall here have to change my metaphor a little to get the process in his mind. Suppose that instead of your curved pieces of wood you have a springy piece of steel of the same types of curvature as the wood. Now the state of tension or concentration of mind, if he is doing anything really good...

— Hulme, T. E. (1883-1917)

Date: 1911

" I have no material clay to mould to the given shape; the only thing which one has for the purpose, and which acts as a substitute for it, a kind of mental clay, are certain metaphors modified into theories of aesthetic and rhetoric."

— Hulme, T. E. (1883-1917)

Date: 1911

"The psychical is divided (to speak metaphorically and not metaphysically) into monads that have no windows and are in communication only through empathy."

— Husserl, Edmund (1859-1938)

Date: 1911

"As for Mr. Woodhouse, whose most famous sentences hang like texts in frames on the four walls of our memories, he is, next to Don Quixote, perhaps the most perfect gentleman in fiction; and under outrageous provocation he remains so."

— Bradley, A.C. (1851-1935)

Date: 1912

"Famous garden where the passion, / Bursting first disclosed the morn / Whose effulgent, beaming glory / Cleft old Chaos, brain and spine; / Lit up incense burning shrine, / In the heart of man for Eve."

— Beadle, Samuel Alfred (1857-1932)

Date: 1912

"Could we deftly lift the curtain / Which the cunning serpent draws, / Like the veil of night about us, / We would find that paradise, / Like a flower in winter, lies / 'Neath the stubbles of our souls."

— Beadle, Samuel Alfred (1857-1932)

Date: 1912

"Who does not harbor in his breast / The fruitage of forbidden things / Culled from beauty's lips and heart, / And folded in between the leaves / Of memory's roll of reveries."

— Beadle, Samuel Alfred (1857-1932)