Date: 1820

"Only a sense / Remains of them, like the omnipotence / Of music, when the inspired voice and lute / Languish, ere yet the responses are mute, / Which through the deep and labyrinthine soul, / Like echoes through long caverns, wind and roll."

— Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822)

Date: 1838

All the "eye doth meet is mist and crag" in "the world of thought and mental might"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)

Date: 1850

"Caverns there were within my mind which sun / Could never penetrate, yet did there not / Want store of leafy arbours where the light / Might enter in at will."

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"Imagination--here the Power so called / Through sad incompetence of human speech, / That awful Power rose from the mind's abyss / Like an unfathered vapour that enwraps, / At once, some lonely traveller"

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"The immeasurable height / Of woods decaying, never to be decayed, / The stationary blasts of waterfalls, / And in the narrow rent at every turn / Winds thwarting winds, bewildered and forlorn, / The torrents shooting from the clear blue sky, / The rocks that muttered close upon our ears, / Black...

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1850

"And, as the horizon of my mind enlarged, / Again I took the intellectual eye / For my instructor, studious more to see / Great truths, than touch and handle little ones."

— Wordsworth, William (1770-1850)

Date: 1940

"In the deserts of the heart / Let the healing fountain start."

— Auden, W. H. (1907-1973)

Date: 1955, 1958

"It [the title of this book] is used out of context but expresses the way I felt about these poems when I wrote them---as if they were, taken together, a kind of Coney Island of the mind, a kind of circus of the soul."

— Ferlinghetti, Lawrence. (b. 1919)

Date: August, 1965

"His mind's all black thickets / and blood."

— Harrison, Jim (1937-2016)

Date: 2015

"And yes, mortal knells / in sleepless hours, hollow knocks of empty / boats against a dock but still the mind / is a meadow, the heart an ocean even though / it burns."

— Young, Dean (b. 1955)