About stories of all kinds
Today 160 years ago, Nathaniel Hawthorne died. Born in Salem in 1804, he was a writer of short stories and novels, American consul, and friend to contemporary writers of fiction and non-fiction alike. Among these contemporaries were Herman Melville, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. His style is characteristic of what might now be… Continue reading ‘that I did not die then’
“[T]he besetting sin of a philanthropist, it appears to me, is apt to be a moral obliquity. His sense of honor ceases to be the sense of other honorable men. At some point of his course...he is tempted to palter with the right, and can scarcely forbear persuading himself that the importance of his public… Continue reading “The importance of his public ends”
Therefore, if we built splendid castles... and pictured beautiful scenes, among the fervid coals of the hearth round which we were clustering, and if all went to rack with the crumbling embers, and have never since arisen out of the ashes, let us take to ourselves no shame. In my own behalf, I rejoice that… Continue reading ‘Let us take to ourselves no shame’
Fictitiously Yours 