Nathaniel Hawthorne Quotes
Most popular Nathaniel Hawthorne Quotes
Life is made up of marble and mud.
A gush of violets along a wood path.
Mountains are earth's undecaying monuments.
Mankind is earthen jugs with spirits in them.
Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.
What is the voice of song, when the world lacks the ear of taste?
Every individual has a place to fill in the world and is important.
When man is a brute, he is the most sensual and loathsome of all brutes.
She poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit.
The fiend in his own shape is less hideous than when he rages in the breast of man.
Generosity consists not in the sum given, but in the manner in which it is bestowed.
The world, that gray-bearded and wrinkled profligate, decrepit, without being venerable.
Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin. Economics and art are strangers.
Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart.
Life, within doors, has few pleasanter prospects than a neatly-arranged and well-provisioned breakfast-table.
We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death.
The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
Bees are sometimes drowned (or suffocated) in the honey which they collect. So some writers are lost in their collected learning.
Our Creator would never have made such lovely days and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them unless we were meant to be immortal.
Happiness is as a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always beyond our grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.
![Happiness in this world, when it comes, comes incidentally. Make it the object of pursuit, and it leads us [on] a wild-goose chase, and is never attained. - Nathaniel Hawthorne quote.](/img/q/74/32474A-happiness-in-this-world-when-it-comes-comes-incidentally-make-nathaniel-hawthorne.png)
Happiness in this world, when it comes, comes incidentally. Make it the object of pursuit, and it leads us [on] a wild-goose chase, and is never attained.
No man, for any considerable time, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
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.
The greatest obstacle to being heroic is the doubt whether one may not be going to prove one's self a fool; the truest heroism is to resist the doubt; and the profoundest wisdom, to know when it ought to be resisted, and when to be obeyed.
Have you ever read the novels of Anthony Trollope? They precisely suit my taste; solid and substantial, written on strength of beef and through inspiration of ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump out of the earth, and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they were made a show of.
It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at the bottom. Each, in its utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object. Philosophically considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially the same, except that one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance and the other in a dusky and lurid glow.
It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object.
