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American novelist and short story writer
(1804 - 1864)
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The breath of peace was fanning her glorious brow, her head was bowed a very little forward, and a tress, escaping from its bonds, fell by the side of her pure white temple, and close to her just opened lips; it hung there motionless! no breath disturbed its repose! She slept as an angel might sleep, having accomplished the mission of her God.
      - [Sleep]

The calmer thought is not always the right thought, just as the distant view is not always the truest view.
      - [Thought]

The Christian faith is a grand cathedral with divinely pictured windows.
      - [Christianity]

The divine chemistry works in the subsoil.
      - [Agriculture]

The greatest obstacle to being heroic is the doubt whether one may going to prove one's self a fool.
      - [Heroes]

The heart of true womanhood knows where its own sphere is, and never seeks to stray beyond it!
      - [Women]

The inward pleasure of imparting pleasure--that is the choicest of all.
      - [Pleasure]

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.
      - [Posterity]

The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
      - [Progress]

There is an alchemy of quiet malice by which women can concoct a subtle poison from ordinary trifles.
      - [Malice]

There is evil in every human heart, which may remain latent, perhaps, through the whole of life; but circumstances may rouse it to activity.
      - [Evil]

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.
      - [Monuments]

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. The sunshine is peculiarly genial; and in sheltered places, as on the side of a bank, or of a barn or house, one becomes acquainted and friendly with the sunshine. It seems to be of a kindly and homely nature. And the green grass strewn with a few withered leaves looks the more green and beautiful for them. In summer or spring nature is farther from one's sympathies.
      - [October]

There is something more awful in happiness than in sorrow--the latter being earthly and finite, the former composed of the substance and texture of eternity, so that spirits still embodied may well tremble at it.
      - [Happiness]

Those with whom we can apparently become well acquainted in a few moments are generally the most difficult to rightly know and to understand.
      - [Character]

Time flies over us, but leaves it shadow behind.
      - [Time]

To be left alone in the wide world with scarcely a friend,--this makes the sadness which, striking its pang into the minds of the young and the affectionate, teaches them too soon to watch and interpret the spirit-signs of their own hearts.
      - [Mourners]

Ugliness without tact is horrible.
      - [Ugliness]

We are but shadows: we are, not endowed with real life, and all that seems most real about us is but the thinnest substance of a dream,--till the heart be touched. That touch creates us--then we begin to be--thereby we are beings of reality and inheritors of eternity.
      - [Emotion]

We must not think too unkindly even of the east wind. It is not, perhaps, a wind to be loved, even in its benignest moods; but there are seasons when I delight to feel its breath upon my cheek, though it be never advisable to throw open my bosom and take it into my heart, as I would its gentle sisters of the south and west.
      - [Wind]

We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream--it may be so the moment after death.
      - [Death]

What is the voice of song, when the world lacks the ear to taste?
      - [Songs]

What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart? What jailer so inexorable as one's self?
      - [Conscience]

What would a man do if he were compelled to live always in the sultry heat of society, and could never better himself in cool solitude?
      - [Solitude]

When scattered clouds are resting on the bosoms of hills, it seems as if one might climb into the heavenly region, earth being so intermixed with sky, and gradually transformed into it.
      - [Clouds]

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