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NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
American novelist and short story writer
(1804 - 1864)
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His words had power because they accorded with his thoughts; and his thoughts had reality and depth because they harmonized with the life he had always lived. It was not mere breath that this preacher uttered; they were the words of life, because a life of good deeds and holy love was melted into them. Pearls, pure and rich, had been dissolved into the precious draught.
      - [Preaching]

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.
      - [Architecture]

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.
      - [Death]

If we take the freedom to put a friend under our microscope, we thereby insulate him from many of his true relations, magnify his peculiarities, inevitably tear him into parts, and, of course, patch him very clumsily together again. What wonder, then, should we be frightened by the aspect of a monster.
      - [Friends]

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.
      - [Insincerity]

It is my opinion that a man's soul may be buried and perish under a dung-heap, or in a furrow of the field, just as well as under a pile of money.
      - [Money]

It is not strange that that early love of the heart should come back, as it so often does when the dim eye is brightening with its last light. It is not strange that the freshest fountains the heart has ever known in its wastes should bubble up anew when the lifeblood is growing stagnant. It is not strange that a bright memory should come to a dying old man, as the sunshine breaks across the hills at the close of a stormy day; nor that in the light of that ray, the very clouds that made the day dark should grow gloriously beautiful.
      - [Death]

It is very singular how the fact of a man's death often seems to give people a truer idea of his character, whether for good or evil, than they have ever possessed while he was living and acting among them.
      - [Appreciation : Death]

Keep the imagination sane--that is one of the truest conditions of communion with heaven.
      - [Imagination]

Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionately brutified.
      - [Labor]

Language,--human language,--after all, is but little better than the cloak and cackle of fowls, and other utterances of brute nature,--sometimes not so adequate.
      - [Language]

Mankind are earthen jugs with spirits in them.
      - [Man]

Men of cold passions have quick eyes.
      - [Eyes]

Moonlight is sculpture; sunlight is painting.
      - [Moon]

Most people are so constituted that they can only be virtuous in a certain routine; an irregular course of life demoralizes them.
      - [Virtue]

Mountains are earth's undecaying monuments.
      - [Mountains]

No fountain so small but that heaven may be imaged in its bosom.
      - [Heaven]

No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
      - [Hypocrisy]

Nobody will use other people's experience, nor have any of his own till it is too late to use it.
      - [Experience]

Of a bitter satirist it might be said that the person or thing on which his satire fell shriveled up as if the devil had spit on it.
      - [Satire]

Our Creator would never have made such lovely days and have given us the dep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal.
      - [Day]

Our most intimate friend is not he to whom we show the worst, but the best of our nature.
      - [Friends]

Such has often been my apathy, when objects long sought, and earnestly desired, were placed within my reach.
      - [Apathy]

Sunlight is like the breath of life to the pomp of autumn.
      - [Sun]

The best of us being unfit to die, what an unexpressible absurdity to put the worst to death.
      - [Punishment]


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