Date: 1777, 1778

"The mind of youth is a kind of tabula rasa;--at first unstained with guilt, and unadorned with virtue."

— Rack, Edmund (1735-1787)

Date: 1777, 1778

"May the fair page never be polluted!--may it become inscribed with every excellent virtue--and be thereby rendered comely in the sight of Men, of Angels, of the Deity!"

— Rack, Edmund (1735-1787)

Date: 1778

"The mind of man has been by some authors called a tabula rasa, and compared to a sheet of clean paper."

— Author Unknown

Date: 1778

"Hence our frame, from its very origin, seems marked by the hand of nature with indubitable signatures of pre-eminence and distinction."

— Author Unknown

Date: 1780

"Not an indifferency to, or equilibrium betwixt right and wrong; for that had been to have a mixed, or no quality, a mere rasa tabula, to be impressed things extrinsical to it, without any understanding and choice of its own: Both which were foreign to the primitive state of man."

— Manners, Nicholas

Date: ca. 1780

"Let Truth then, my dear, still dwell on your tongue, / From her maxims O never depart; / But give yourself up to her guidance while young, / Her precepts engrave on your heart."

— Kilner, Dorothy (1755-1836)

Date: 1781

"Ideas of sense are but the first elements of thought: and the produce raised from these elements by the operation of the mind upon them is as far superiour to the elements themselves in variety, copiousness and use, as books are to the characters of which they are composed."

— Rotheram, John (1725–1789)

Date: 1781

"How solidly he establishes, in Opposition to the celebrated Mr. Locke, the Doctrine of Innate Ideas; or that the Soul of Man, is not in its first created State, a mere Rasa Tabula, or blank Paper, but full of divine Sensations, and the Powers, Riches and Glories of Eternity; all treasured up and...

— Anonymous; [L--]

Date: 1781

"May God write it upon all your hearts!"

— Wesley, John (1703-1791)

Date: 1782

"A letter is the soul's portrait. It is not a cold image, with its stagnation, so remote from love; it lends itself to all our emotions; turn by turn it grows animated, it enjoys, it rests"

— Laclos, Pierre (-Ambrose-François) Choderlos de (1741-1803)