Date: July, 1906

"That consciousness is a lyric cry, even in the midst of business, is something which must be felt, perhaps, to be understood; and they that have feeling, let them feel it."

— Santayana, George (1863-1952)

Date: 1907

"Could I but think, on this same day, / She would with some Contrition pray, / That never she again would take / A Captive Heart or Conquest make."

— Crabbe, George (1754-1832)

Date: 1907

"'I see a Horse, I'm sure thats true.' / I say the Devil a Horse see You; / You see a Horse's Image, lain / In Miniature upon your brain; / But what you take for fourteen hand, / Is less than half a grain of sand."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1907

"No matter how much we may talk of the preservation of psychical dispositions, nor how many metaphors we may summon to characterize the storage of ideas in some hypothetical deposit chamber of memory, the obstinate fact remains that when we are not experiencing a sensation or an idea it is, stric...

— Angell, James Rowland (1869-1949)

Date: Date Unknown

"The command of one's self is the greatest empire a man can aspire unto, and consequently, to be subject to our own passions is the most grievous slavery."

— Milton, John (1608-1674)

Date: Date Unknown

To "be subject to our own passions is the most grievous slavery"

— Milton, John (1608-1674)

Date: 1908

"Ideas rose in crowds; I felt them collide until pairs interlocked, so to speak, making a stable combination."

— Poincaré, Henri (1854-1912)

Date: 1908

"So her mind is like a wonderful bird-cage, filled with nightingales, which, like all captive nightingales, feed upon hearts—upon her heart."

— Gregorio Martinez Sierra (1881-1947)

Date: 1908

"His mind is like a sunbeam which has fallen into a globe of crystal and clear water, and all the colors are there in it, except one, which is constancy."

— Gregorio Martinez Sierra (1881-1947)

Date: 1908, 1911

"The soul of a good man had become empty of all psychological content, of grounds and consequences; it has become a pure white slate, upon which fate writes its absurd command, and this command will be followed blindly, rashly, and fiercely to the end."

— Lukács, Georg [György] (1885-1971)