Nathaniel Hawthorne Quotes
A vast deal of human sympathy runs along the electric line of needlework, stretching from the throne to the wicker chair of the humble seamstress.
A singular fact, that, when man is a brute, he is the most sensual and loathsome of all brutes.
There is no season when such pleasant and sunny spots may be lighted on, and produce so pleasant an effect on the feelings as now in October.
There is great incongruity in this idea of monuments, since those to whom they are usually dedicated need no such recognition to embalm their memory; and any man who does, is not worthy of one.
I find nothing so singular to life as that everything appears to lose its substance the instant one actually grapples with it.
Nobody will use other people's experience, nor have any of his own till it is too late to use it.
All brave men love; for he only is brave who has affections to fight for, whether in the daily battle of life, or in physical contests.
Our Creator would never have made such lovely days, and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal.
The trees reflected in the river - they are unconscious of a spiritual world so near to them. So are we.
Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin. Economics and art are strangers.
One picture in ten thousand, perhaps, ought to live in the applause of mankind, from generation to generation until the colors fade and blacken out of sight or the canvas rot entirely away.
Is it a fact-or have I dreamt it-that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?
What we call real estate - the solid ground to build a house on - is the broad foundation on which nearly all the guilt of this world rests.
The calmer thought is not always the right thought, just as the distant view is not always the truest view
The only sensible ends of literature are, first, the pleasurable toil of writing; second, the gratification of one's family and friends; and lastly, the solid cash.
Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart!
Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionately brutalized.
Insincerity in a man's own heart must make all his enjoyments, all that concerns him, unreal; so that his whole life must seem like a merely dramatic representation.
The greatest obstacle to being heroic is the doubt whether one may going to prove one's self a fool.
Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly-arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.
But she named the infant "Pearl," as being of great price-purchased with all she had-her mother's only treasure!
The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
A stale article, if you dip it in a good, warm, sunny smile, will go off better than a fresh one that you've scowled upon.
It is to the credit of human nature that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates.
The love of posterity is the consequence of the necessity of death. If a man were sure of living forever here, he would not care about his offspring.
An unhappy gentleman, resolving to wed nothing short of perfection, keeps his heart and hand till both get so old and withered that no tolerable woman will accept them.
Articulate words are a harsh clamor and dissonance. When man arrives at his highest perfection, he will again be dumb.
it is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.
You can get assent to almost any proposition so long as you are not going to do anything about it.
My fortune somewhat resembled that of a person who should entertain an idea of committing suicide, and, altogether beyond his hopes, meet with the good hap to be murdered.
Shall we never never get rid of this Past? ... It lies upon the Present like a giant's dead body.
There is an alchemy of quiet malice by which women can concoct a subtle poison from ordinary trifles.
If cities were built by the sound of music, then some edifices would appear to be constructed by grave, solemn tones,--others to have danced forth to light fantastic airs.
Most people are so constituted that they can only be virtuous in a certain routine; an irregular course of life demoralizes them.
If human love hath power to penetrate the veil--and hath it not?--then there are yet living here a few who have the blessedness of knowing that an angel loves them.
The world surely has not another place like Oxford; it is a despair to see such a place and ever to leave it, for it would take a lifetime and more than one to comprehend and enjoy it satisfactorily.