Date: March 1843
"It was the sad confession and continual exemplification of the shortcomings of the composite man, the spirit burdened with clay and working in matter, and of the despair that assails the higher nature at finding itself so miserably thwarted by the earthly part."
preview | full record— Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864)
Date: March 1843
"My earthly senses are closing over my spirit like the leaves around the heart of a rose at sunset."
preview | full record— Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864)
Date: 1847
"I've dreamed in my life dreams that have staid with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."
preview | full record— Brontë, Emily (1818-1848)
Date: 1847
"His brightening mind brightened his features, and added spirit and nobility to their aspect."
preview | full record— Brontë, Emily (1818-1848)
Date: 1850
"My imagination was a tarnished mirror. It would not reflect, or only with miserable dimness, the figures with which I did my best to people it."
preview | full record— Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864)
Date: 1850
"The characters of the narrative would not be warmed and rendered malleable by any heat that I could kindle at my intellectual forge."
preview | full record— Hawthorne, Nathaniel (1804-1864)
Date: 1851
"No, but put a sky-light on top of his head to illuminate inwards."
preview | full record— Melville, Herman (1819-1891)
Date: 1851
"The path to my fixed purpose is laid with iron rails, whereon my soul is grooved to run."
preview | full record— Melville, Herman (1819-1891)
Date: 1851
"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it...
preview | full record— Melville, Herman (1819-1891)
Date: November and December 1853, 1856
"To befriend Bartleby; to humor him in his strange wilfulness, will cost me little or nothing, while I lay up in my soul what will eventually prove a sweet morsel for my conscience."
preview | full record— Melville, Herman (1819-1891)