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Date: 1797

"Check they the torpid influence of Despair, / Or bid warm Health re-animate the breast; / Where Hope's soft visions have no longer part, / And whose sad inmate--is a broken heart?"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: 1797

"The base controul / Of petty despots in their pedant reign / Already hast thou felt;--and high disdain / Of Tyrants is imprinted on thy soul."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: 1797

"Man, lost in ignorance and toil, / Becomes associate to the soil, / And his heart hardens like his native rock."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: w. September 1794, 1797

"Wit, that no suffering could impair, / Was thine, and thine whose mental powers / Of force to chase the fiends that tear / From Fancy's hands her budding flowers."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: 1797

"Grief, the most fatal of the heart's diseases, / Soon teaches, who it fastens on, to die."

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: 1797

"Fear thee, O Death!--Or hug the chains that bind / To joyless, cheerless life, her sick, reluctant mind?"

— Smith, Charlotte (1749-1806)

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Date: 1798

"Methinks, its [a fluttering "film"] motion in this hush of nature / Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, / Making it a companionable form, / Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling Spirit / By its own moods interprets, every where / Echo or mirror seeking of itself, / And makes a toy of Thou...

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

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Date: February, 1798

"And what (I said) tho' blasphemy's loud scream / With that sweet music of deliv'rance strove; / Tho' all the fierce and drunken passions wove / A dance more wild than ever maniac's dream; / Ye storms, that round the dawning east assembled, / The sun was rising, tho' ye hid his light!"

— Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834)

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Date: 1799, 1806

"O Gold! thou pois'nous dross, whose subtile pow'r / Can change men's souls, or captive take the will."

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

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Date: 1799, 1806

Gold "tipp'st the leaves of fancy's fairest flow'r / With glitt'ring drops: it feels the numbing spell / Creep through each fibre slow; while ev'ry ill / Of sordid mis'ry blossoms to devour"

— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)

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The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.