Mankind are earthen jugs with spirits in them. |
Moonlight is sculpture. |
Mountains are earth's undecaying monuments. |
Much of the marble coldness of Hester's impression was to be attributed to the circumstance that her life had turned, in a great measure, from passion and feeling, to thought. Standing alone, as to any dependent on society, and with little Pearl to be guided and protected- alone, and hopeless of retrieving her position, even as she had not scorned to consider it desirable, she cast away the fragments of a broken chain. |
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. |
My heart was a habitation large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream . . . |
No author, without a trial, can conceive of the difficulty of writing a romance about a country where there is no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong, nor anything but a commonplace prosperity, in broad and simple daylight, as is happily the case with my dear native land. |
No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which one is 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 |
Nobody has any conscience about adding to the improbabilities of a marvelous tale. |
Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures or statues, which cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet and artist has actually expressed |
Our Creator would never have made such lovely days, and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal. |
Our most intimate friend is not he to whom we show the worst, but the best of our nature. |
Punishment of a miser - to pay the drafts of his heir in his tomb |
Religion and art spring from the same root and are close kin. Economics and art are strangers. |