Date: 1701

"Love governs every Sense, every Affection, every Principle truckles to that more noble Passion."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Beauty's the least prevailing Snare to me; tho' her great Soul makes me admire her Person; yet were she deform'd, Virtue, like the Sun, wou'd shine through every Cloud."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Which are but tantalizing Amusements that debauch our Genius when they are once over, and Fatigue allows us a serious interval; with what regret do we reflect upon our Folly, in letting our Appetites govern our Reason, and like the Sirens Song charm us into Ruine."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Thro' Heat of Youth, her Fancy vainly roves, / And she acts just as every Whimsy moves."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Conceit, like Wind, has seiz'd the empty Head, and Men convulsively strive to utter what they want a Fund of Brains to yeild."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701

"Confusions! Noises! That teaze Retirement, and only eccho in an empty Head."

— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)

Date: 1701, 1704

"We may the conclude, that whatever we clearly and distinctly perceive is true, and that as long as we have Light before us, and assent to nothing but what we have a clear view and perception of, 'tis impossible we should err, or judge amiss"

— Norris, John (1657-1712)

Date: 1701, 1704

And consequently that we may then judge securely, and safely acquiesce and repose our selves in such Judgments, as true and certain, and as it were the undeceiving answers of Truth it self, even that interior Truth, whose School and Oracle is within our Breast, whose Instructions ar...

— Norris, John (1657-1712)

Date: 1701, 1704

"And indeed after all, we have no other reason to think any Proposition true in any of the Sciences, but only because we clearly perceive that it is so, and it shines out upon our Minds with and unquestionable and irresistable Light."

— Norris, John (1657-1712)

Date: 1704

"Erect your schemes with as much method and skill as you please; yet, if the materials be nothing but dirt, spun out of your own entrails (the guts of modern brains), the edifice will conclude at last in a cobweb; the duration of which, like that of other spiders’ webs, may be imputed to their be...

— Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)