The Blithedale Romance

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Houghton, Mifflin, 1883 - Collective farms - 281 pages
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User Review  - CurrerBell - LibraryThing

A definite 5*****, especially with the Norton supplementary materials, which include selections from Hawthorne's letters as well as other materials pertaining to the Brook Farm communitarian ... Read full review

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Page 81 - Intellectual activity is incompatible with any large amount of bodily exercise. The yeoman and the scholar — the yeoman and the man of finest moral culture, though not the man of sturdiest sense and integrity — are two distinct individuals, and can never be melted or welded into one substance.
Page 277 - The moral which presents itself to my reflections, as drawn from Hollingsworth's character and errors, is simply this, — that, admitting what is called philanthropy, when adopted as a profession, to be often useful by its energetic impulse to society at large, it is perilous to the individual whose ruling passion, in one exclusive channel, it thus becomes. It ruins, or is fearfully apt to ruin, the heart, the...
Page 87 - And the higher and purer the original object, and the more unselfishly it may have been taken up, the slighter is the probability that they can be led to recognize the process by which godlike benevolence has been debased into all-devouring egotism.
Page 243 - This place is free to you," answered Hollingsworth. "As free as to ourselves," added Zenobia. "This long while past, you have been following up your game, groping for human emotions in the dark corners of the heart. Had you been here a little sooner, you might have seen them dragged into the daylight. I could even wish to have my trial over again, with you standing by to see fair play!
Page 275 - No, nor begun," answered he, without raising his eyes. "A very small one answers all my purposes." Priscilla threw me an upbraiding glance. But I spoke again, with a bitter and revengeful emotion, as if flinging a poisoned arrow at Hollingsworth's heart. "Up to this moment," I inquired, "how many criminals have you reformed?" "Not one," said Hollingsworth, with his eyes still fixed on the ground. "Ever since we parted, I have been busy with a single murderer.
Page 77 - ... or a conclave of philosophers. Whatever might be our points of difference, we all of us seemed to have come to Blithedale with the one thrifty and laudable idea of wearing out our old clothes. Such garments as had an airing, whenever we strode afield ! Coats with high collars and with no collars, broad-skirted or swallow-tailed, and with the waist at every point between the hip and armpit; pantaloons of a dozen successive epochs, and greatly defaced at the knees by the humiliations of the wearer...
Page 47 - Then, indeed, he would glare upon us from the thick shrubbery of his meditations like a tiger out of a jungle, make the briefest reply possible, and betake himself back into the solitude of his heart and mind.
Page 73 - Did you ever see a happy woman in your life ? Of course, I do not mean a girl, like Priscilla, and a thousand others, — for they are all alike, while on the sunny side of experience, — but a grown woman. How can she be happy, after discovering that fate has assigned her but one single event, which she must contrive to make the substance of her whole life? A man has his choice of innumerable events.
Page 165 - Review, the merchants, the politicians, the Cambridge men, and all those respectable old blockheads who still in this intangibility and mistiness of affairs kept a death-grip on one or two ideas which had not come into vogue since yesterday morning.
Page 143 - What amused and puzzled me was the fact that women, however intellectually superior, so seldom disquiet themselves about the rights or wrongs of their sex, unless their own individual affections chance to lie in idleness, or to be ill at ease. They are not natural reformers, but become such by the pressure of exceptional misfortune. I could measure Zenobia's inward trouble by the animosity with which she now took up the general quarrel of woman against man. " I will give you leave, Zenobia...

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