Mountains are earth’s undecaying monuments.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNEA man’s bewilderment is the measure of his wisdom.
More Nathaniel Hawthorne Quotes
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The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
Dream strange things and make them look like truth.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
Though we speak nonsense, God will pick out the meaning of it.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
I have come to see the nonsense of attempting to describe fine scenery. There is no such possibility. If scenery could be adequately reproduced in words, there would have been no need of God’s making it in reality.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
There is something truer and more real, than what we can see with the eyes, and touch with the finger.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
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.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
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.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
The marble keeps merely a cold and sad memory of a man who would else be forgotten. No man who needs a monument ever ought to have one.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
Death should take me while I am in the mood.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
What is the voice of song when the world lacks the ear of taste?
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
If mankind were all intellect, they would be continually changing, so that one age would be entirely unlike another. The great conservative is the heart, which remains the same in all ages; so that commonplaces of a thousand years’ standing are as effective as ever.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
This above all: be true, be true, be true.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
A pure hand needs no glove to cover it.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE -
Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE