Date: 1754

"My heart is too big for its prison, putting her hand to it: It wants room, methinks"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1754

"She had from her chamber-window been shot through the heart by the blind archer, who took his stand on the feather of a military man marching at the head of his company through the market-town in which she lived"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1754

"How you wound my soul by the supposition!"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1754

"Souls of tinder, discretions of flimsy gauze, that conceal not their folly--One day they will think as I do; and perhaps before they have daughters who will convince them of the truth of my assertion"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)

Date: 1754

"My dear Dr. Bartlett, said he, your soul is harmony: I doubt not but all these are in order"

— Richardson, Samuel (bap. 1689, d. 1761)