A confused mass of thoughts, tumbling over one another in the dark; when the fancy was yet in its first work, moving the sleeping images of things towards the light, there to be distinguished and then either chosen or rejected by the judgment. Dryden.Dedication to the Rival Ladies.
When the fancy labouring for a birth, With unfelt throes brings its rude issue forth, How often, when imperfect shapeless thought Is by the judgment into fashion wrought, Like colours undistinguished in the night, Till the dark images moved to the light, Teach the discerning faculty to choose, Which it had best adopt and which refuse. Oldham.Letter to a Friend.
As yet tis but a chaos Of darkly brooding thoughts: my fancy is In her first work, more nearly to the light, Holding the sleeping images of things For the selection of the pausing judgment. Byron.Marino Faliero, (The Doge solus,) Act I. Scene 2.