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Quote by Nathaniel Hawthorne

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The Marble Faun: Or The Romance of Monte Beni

Nathaniel Hawthorne's 'The Marble Faun' is a complex narrative set in the picturesque landscape of Monte Beni, Italy. The story delves into the lives of a group of Americans living abroad, intertwining their fates with the local inhabitants. The novel is known for its exploration of artistic inspiration, romantic entanglements, and the supernatural elements that blur the line between reality and illusion. more

Author

Nathaniel Hawthorne
Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nathaniel Hawthorne was an American novelist known for his Gothic novels and romantic works. His writings often delve into themes of morality and sin, influenced by his family history and Puritan background. more

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“That pit of blackness that lies beneath us, everywhere ... the firmest substance of human happiness is but a thin crust spread over it, with just reality enough to bear up the illusive stage-scenery amid which we tread. It needs no earthquake to open the chasm.”

“If we would know what heaven is before we come thither, let us retire into the depths of our own spirits, and we shall find it there among holy thoughts and feelings.”

“The ideas of people in general are not raised higher than the roofs of the houses. All their interests extend over the earth's surface in a layer of that thickness. The meeting-house steeple reaches out of their sphere.”

“London is like the grave in one respect -- any man can make himself at home there; and whenever a man finds himself homeless elsewhere, he had better either die or go to London.”

“Never was there a dingier, uglier, less picturesque city than London ... it is really wonderful that so much brick and stone, for centuries together, should have been built up with so poor a result.”

“I want nothing to do with politicians. Their hearts wither away, and die out of their bodies. Their consciences are turned to india-rubber, or to some substance as black as that, and which will stretch as much.”

“This dull river has a deep religion of its own; so, let us trust, has the dullest human soul, though, perhaps, unconsciously.”

“What would a man do, if he were compelled to live always in the sultry heat of society, and could never bathe himself in cool solitude?”