Date: 1761

"[M]any, therefore, may violate that rule of right, which the hand of the Almighty has written upon the living tablets of the heart"

— Hawkesworth, John (bap. 1720, d. 1773)

Date: 1761

"You, the miser's haunt be near; / Break his rest with causeless fear, / Creak his doors, his windows shake, / 'Till his iron heart shall quake."

— Hawkesworth, John (bap. 1720, d. 1773)

Date: 1761

"Hitherto her memory had been wholly suspended by violent passions, which had crowded upon her in a rapid and uninterrupted succession, and the first gleam of recollection threw her into a new agony"

— Hawkesworth, John (bap. 1720, d. 1773)

Date: 1762

"Therefore, I have no one notion, / That is not form'd, like the designing / Of the peristaltick motion; / Vermicular; twisting and twining; / Going to work / Just like a bottle-skrew upon a cork."

— Sterne, Laurence (1713-1768)

Date: December 6, 1765

One may fell Love's vengeful Shaft transfix her heart "And yield to [it] the Empire of [her] Soul]

— Cumberland, Richard (1732-1811)

Date: December 6, 1765

"Then fly from Shape to Shape, / Yet hope not to escape, / My Chains enclose your Heart."

— Cumberland, Richard (1732-1811)

Date: 1766

"Physicians tell us of a disorder in which the whole body is so exquisitely sensible, that the slightest touch gives pain: what some have thus suffered in their persons, this gentleman felt in his mind."

— Goldsmith, Oliver (1728?-1774)

Date: 1766

"His mind had leaned upon their adulation, and that support taken away, he could find no pleasure in the applause of his heart, which he had never learnt to reverence."

— Goldsmith, Oliver (1728?-1774)

Date: 1766

"We are not to judge of the feelings of others by what we might feel if in their place. Howsoever dark the habitation of the mole to our eyes, yet the animal itself finds the apartment sufficiently lightsome. And to confess a truth, this man's mind seems fitted to his station; for when he convers...

— Goldsmith, Oliver (1728?-1774)

Date: 1766

"The blossom opening to the day, / The dews of heaven refin'd, / Could nought of purity display, / To emulate his mind."

— Goldsmith, Oliver (1728?-1774)