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The world, that grey-bearded and wrinkled profligate, decrepit, without being venerable.
Nathaniel Hawthorne
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Nathaniel Hawthorne
Age: 59 †
Born: 1804
Born: July 4
Died: 1864
Died: May 18
Diplomat
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Salem
Massachusetts
Nathaniel Hathorne
Monsieur de l'Aubépine
N. H.
Profligate
Bearded
Wrinkled
Decrepit
Venerable
Grey
Without
World
More quotes by Nathaniel Hawthorne
We go all wrong by too strenuous a resolution to go right.
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Oh, for the years I have not lived, but only dreamed of living.
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In all her intercourse with society, however, there was nothing that made her feel as if she belonged to it... She stood apart from mortal interests, yet close beside them, like a ghost that revisits the familiar fireside, and can no longer make itself seen or felt.
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...Chillingworth was a striking evidence of man's faculty of transforming himself into a devil, if he will only, for a reasonable space of time, undertake a devil's office.
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Keep the imagination sane--that is one of the truest conditions of communion with heaven.
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A bodily disease which we look upon as whole and entire within itself, may after all, be but a symptom of some ailment in the spiritual part.
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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.
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The love of science to rival the love of woman, in its depth and absorbing energy.
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Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
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Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin. Economics and art are strangers.
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Or-but this more rarely happened-she would be convulsed with a rage of grief, and sob out her love for her mother, in broken words, and seem intent on proving that she had a heart, by breaking it.
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The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.
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This dull river has a deep religion of its own so, let us trust, has the dullest human soul, though, perhaps, unconsciously.
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Families are always rising and falling in America.
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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.
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Do anything, save to lie down and die!
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What is the voice of song when the world lacks the ear of taste?
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Let the attempt be made, at whatever risk.
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We are as happy as people can be, without making themselves ridiculous, and might be even happier but, as a matter of taste, we choose to stop short at this point.
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Unquestionably we do stand by our national flag as stoutly as any people in the world and I myself have felt the heart-throb at sight of it, as sensibly as other men.
Nathaniel Hawthorne
