Nathaniel Hawthorne

(1804-1864 / the United States)

Nathaniel Hawthorne
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Nathaniel Hawthorne (born Nathaniel Hathorne; July 4, 1804 – May 19, 1864) was an American novelist and short story writer.

Nathaniel Hathorne was born in 1804 in the city of Salem, Massachusetts to Nathaniel Hathorne and Elizabeth Clarke Manning Hathorne. He later changed his name to "Hawthorne", adding a "w" to dissociate from relatives including John Hathorne, a judge during the Salem Witch Trials. Hawthorne attended Bowdoin College, was elected to Phi Beta Kappa in 1824, and graduated in 1825; his classmates included future president Franklin Pierce and future poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Hawthorne anonymously published his first work, a novel titled ... more »

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  • ''Is it a fact—or have I dreamt it—that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?''
    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), U.S. author. Clifford Pyncheon, in The House of the Seven Gables, ch. 17 (1851).
  • ''A woman's chastity consists, like an onion, of a series of coats.''
    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), U.S. author. English Notebooks, journal entry, March 16, 1854 (1870, revised 1941).
  • ''We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest.''
    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), U.S. author. Hester Prynne, in The Scarlet Letter, ch. 22 (1850).
  • ''Nobody, I think, ought to read poetry, or look at pictures or statues, who cannot find a great deal more in them than the poet or artist has actually expressed. Their highest merit is suggestiveness.''
    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), U.S. author. Hilda, in The Marble Faun, ch. 41 (1860).
  • ''Every young sculptor seems to think that he must give the world some specimen of indecorous womanhood, and call it Eve, Venus, a Nymph, or any name that may apologize for a lack of decent clothing.''
    Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), U.S. author. Miriam, in The Marble Faun, ch. 14 (1860).
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Best Poem of Nathaniel Hawthorne

The Ocean

The ocean has its silent caves,
Deep, quiet and alone;
Though there be fury on the waves,
Beneath them there is none.
The awful spirits of the deep
Hold their communion there;
And there are those for whom we weep,
The young, the bright, the fair.

Calmly the wearied seamen rest
Beneath their own blue sea.
The ocean solitudes are blest,
For there is purity.
The earth has guilt, the earth has care,
Unquiet are its graves;
But peaceful sleep is ever there,
Beneath the dark blue waves.

Read the full of The Ocean Updates

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