Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Hawthorne. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Hawthorne Quotes And Sayings by 96 Authors including Thomas Gold Appleton,Rick Riordan,Erle Stanley Gardner,William Shakespeare,Meg Cabot for you to enjoy and share.
Boston is a state of mind.
TORCHES NEW ENGLAND
Angeles in the plain-clothes division,
I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
Mia Thermopolis, 1005 Thompson Street, #4A
books, teapots, thunderstorms, bridges, street musicians, coming attractions
A stellar, fully-realized collection of stories ... grounded, wonderfully, in the river valleys of western Maine. You come away not only understanding a place but the soul of its people.
Los Angeles survives on that which is unpredictable. The unexpected courses through its very veins.
Providence, assuredly, is a mysterious mover, and who is Jane to ignore it's direction?
Somehow in the middle of the L.A. trendiness, Boston conservation, New York chic and San Francisco intellectual mellow, there's a place where everything meets.
Blanche:
No, I have the misfortune of being an English instructor. I attempt to instill a bunch of bobby-soxers and drugstore Romeos with a reverence for Hawthorne and Whitman and Poe!
Florence - the city of tranquillity made manifest ...
It's a strange city ... filled with things that are not obvious.
Well, little old Noisyville-on-the Subway is good enough for me.
Late one brilliant April afternoon Professor Lucius Wilson stood at the head of Chestnut Street, looking about him with the pleased air of a man of taste who does not very often get to Boston.
The Hemlock Tearoom and Stationery
Boston is a great center of learning. That surgeon was a tantric Buddha," said Ram in admiration, "The smell of cautery is the finest incense. It sharpens the mind.
Hollywood - an emotional Detroit.
the basement. Katz
Last time I was in London, I visited Number 5, Bruton Street, which is the address I gave to Violet Bridgerton, the matriarch of the Bridgerton clan in my novels. It was a bit disconcerting to learn that it's actually a pub.
If the parks be "the lungs of London" we wonder what Greenwich Fair is
a periodical breaking out, we suppose
a sort of spring rash.
Kingsport or feel at home there. Before
THE ADVENTURE OF THE ABBEY GRANGE
London perpetually attracts, stimulates, gives me a play and a story and a poem, without any trouble, save that of moving my legs through the streets ... To walk alone through London is the greatest rest.
Approaching the marina entrance,
Archway and hit the light switch for the
Albion Park on a fierce spring morning. A mad March day of ice and fire. Thomas's feet beat a tattoo on the path. Every hair, every bristle on his chin stands on end. He is a small star-ship of blazing neurons- He is a librarian on his way to work, half-blind with sun and cold and memory.
L.A. I could live without.
heading west on the 495.
Port Authority Bus Terminal
As I came down the Highgate Hill, The Highgate Hill, the Highgate Hill, As I came down the Highgate Hill I met the sun's bravado, And saw below me, fold on fold, Grey to pearl and pearl to gold, This London like a land of old, The land of Eldorado.
If thou fill thy brain with Boston and New York, with fashion and covetousness, and wilt stimulate thy jaded senses with wine and French coffee, thou shalt find no radiance of wisdom in the lonely waste of the pinewoods.
NOTES FROM UNDERGROUND
When they can hear each other over the wind and the music, they speak Connecticut: I will not Stamford this type of behavior. What's Groton into you? What did Danbury his Hartford? New Haven can wait. Darien't no place I'd rather I'd rather be.
Cement in bold relief, - far underground. I lean my elbows on the table, and the lamp lights brightly the newspapers I am fool enough to re-read, and the absurd books.
Get us into Azmodea. (Jericho)
Why in the name of smelly feet would you want to go there again?! (Asmodeus)
Northern San Diego. The white stucco walls rose, interrupted by huge windows. The whole structure nearly floated off the pavement, sleek, modern, and somehow light, almost delicate. The salt-spiced wind blowing from the coast less than a mile away only strengthened the illusion. He'd
Where the underworld can meet the elite, Forty-Second Street.
field. I'll meet you there.
What is Providence for you may be Nemesis for me.
Well, I'm not quite certain yet, young Mr. Fitzpatrick. I am considering the name Willow Hills. Or perhaps Maple Falls. What would you suggest?
821 Cornelia Avenue
I have watched patients stand and gaze longingly toward the city they in all likelihood will never enter again. It means liberty and life; it seems so near, and yet heaven is not further from hell.
Who has a hedge maze in a residential neighborhood? ... serial killers presumably, people who enjoy Steven King novels a bit too much, and people that are hoping one night they will wake up to find David Bowie standing at their window.
I have to go someplace where I can soak myself in a creative atmosphere.
The frozen ocean ... of Boston life.
Where are you anyway? (Acheron)
I don't know. I hear some godawful kind of music from outside, horns blaring, and I'm in a house with a Mohawk cuckoo bird, a transvestite, and a knife-wielding lunatic. (Valerius)
Why are you at Tabitha's? (Acheron)
I grew up in Brentwood, but I live now in Los Feliz. I grew up on the beach, now I live under the Hollywood sign.
I don't want to trudge up insane mountains or through war-torn lands. Just a nice stroll through the hill and dale. But now I walk everywhere in the city. Any city. You see everything you need to see in a lifetime. Every emotion. Every condition. Every fashion. Every glory.
was passed authorizing the appointment of a commission to select a site for an additioual lunatic asylum and to commence its erection. A site was selected three miles from Morristown, and 430 acres of land were purchased. An extensive building was erected, at a cost, including land,
I dwell 'neath the shades of Harvard
In the State of the Sacred Cod,
Where the Lowells speak only to Cabots
And the Cabots speak only to God
WESTBURY, a nasty odious rotten-borough, a really rotten place.
Merciless Mart, with its grand lobby. I glimpse the Abnegation
Providence has a curious way of letting two lives run along, each apparently independent of the other. Parallel lines they seem, hopeless of meeting. Converging lines really, destined, through long ages, by every deed that has been done to meet as a certain point and there fuse.
Southly thru shrubby heath we tromped now till we got to wideway. Wideway I'd heard o' from storymen an' here it was, an open, long, flat o' roadstone. SAplin's'n'bush was musclin' up but wondersome'n'wild was that windy space.
London, dirty little pool of life
Adorable ambuscades of providence!
Bellport. A podium.
Moorcroft with a small pasture
I have always identified with Joan Didion's depiction of Los Angeles and Southern California, ever since reading 'Play It As It Lays,' 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem' and 'The White Album.'
go-go hall on my way home from school.
Crime novelists do really well with Los Angeles.
SANE ASYLUM Ed Shank
The sidewalks flash silver with mica.
Skyline smeared with geese.
By way of recognition
I lost the sound of your voice.
To me there is nothing more fraught with mystery & terror than a remote Massachusetts farmhouse against a lonely hill. Where else could an outbreak like the Salem witchcraft have occurred?
This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air.
Boston: Their hotels are bad. Their pumpkin pies are delicious. Their poetry is not so good.
Thirty or forty years ago, in one those grey towns along the Burlington railroad which are so much greyer to-day than they were then, there was a house well know from Omaha to Denver for its hospitality and for a certain charm of atmosphere.
...from the big tobacco barns there welled forth a fragrance that was for these Kentuckians, the soul of autumn. Oozing out into the sunshine from every crack in the great structures, it exhilarated like an elixir, like a long draught of some rich, spicy wine.
On the sidewalk, dead leaves. Or burned pages from an old Gaffiot dictionary. It's the neighborhood of colleges and convents.
The golden west between its softly dark shores. The sea moaned eerily on the sand-bar, sorrowful even in spring, but a sly, jovial wind
At home in Dellacrosse my place in the world of college and Troy and incipient adulthood dissolved and I became an unseemly collection of jostling former selves. Snarkiness streaked through my voice, or sullenness drove me behind a closed door for hours at a time.
Abandoned mill that
Wonder-Working Providences of Sion's Saviour in New England,
New York, home of the vivisectors of the mind, and of the mentally vivisected still to be reassembled, of those who live intact, habitually wondering about their states of sanity, and home of those whose minds have been dead, bearing the scars of resurrection.
James Bradshaw
1313 Lemon Drive
(Yes, the 'haunted' house)
1:00 a.m.
Bergen, and Oldfield. The
There's a destination,a little up the road. From the habitations and the towns we know. A place we saw the lights turn low. The jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
I both love and am terrified by Greg Van Eekhout's vision of Los Angeles. I already want to go back.
The neighbourhood is a place of ... intrigue and emotional espionage, where when two people stop to talk on the street their tongues are like the two halves of a scissor coming together, cutting reputations and good names to shreds.
We were two miles from Bunker Hill, in the east part of town, in the section of factories and breweries. She
All this cut-price transcendentalism does not prevent California from being a startlingly physical state. This becomes most obvious where Los Angeles saunters down to the sea. The region is called Venice.
The musical equivalent of St Pancras Station.
(on Elgar)
I perceive that I am neither a planter of the backwoods, pioneer, nor settler there, but an inhabitant of the Mind, and given to friendship and ideas. The ancient society, the Old England of New England, Massachusetts for me.
Homicide central, East New York, Where the manic-depressive psycho murderers stalk
The Houselands. Graveyard to the ones
who got locked out. A chill ran up London's spine. What the hell
were they doing?
Los Angeles is like a beauty parlor at the end of the universe.
There is a town in north Ontario,
With dream comfort memory to spare,
And in my mind
I still need a place to go,
All my changes were there.
Blue, blue windows behind the stars,
Yellow moon on the rise,
Big birds flying across the sky,
Throwing shadows on our eyes.
Newrose, oldrose, Queen Anne's lace. Water, river, stone, and sun. Wind over hill, under tree. Past the border none can see. Climbing into dark for you Will you wait in stars for me? I
Liberty. "HALT!" HIRAM GREEN IN GOTHAM. The venerable "Lait Gustise
Los Angeles: Seventy-two suburbs in search of a city.
Greenwich Village ... the village of low rents and high arts.
Hollywood is Newark, New Jersey with palm trees.
New York, thy name is irreverence and hyperbole. And grandeur.
the wizard prison,
In Los Angeles, I feel connected to a hubbub of strangeness. And I enjoy that; I like strangeness.
I shall enter on no encomium upon Massachusetts; she needs none. There she is. Behold her, and judge for yourselves. There is her history; the world knows it by heart. The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston and Concord and Lexington and Bunker Hill; and there they will remain forever.
Nighttown, because the Pit's inverted, and the bottom of its bowl touches the sky, the sky that Nighttown never sees, sweating under its own firmament of acrylic resin, up where the Lo Teks crouch in the dark like gargoyles,
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
This town is like Gone with the Wind on mescaline!" From Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil.