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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"The Blithedale Romance"

This
species of nervous sympathy (though a pretty characteristic enough,
sentimentally considered, and apparently betokening an actual bond of
love among us) was yet found rather inconvenient in its practical
operation, mortal tempers being so infirm and variable as they are.
If one of us happened to give his neighbor a box on the ear, the
tingle was immediately felt on the same side of everybody's head.
Thus, even on the supposition that we were far less quarrelsome than
the rest of the world, a great deal of time was necessarily wasted in
rubbing our ears.
Musing on all these matters, I felt an inexpressible longing for at
least a temporary novelty. I thought of going across the Rocky
Mountains, or to Europe, or up the Nile; of offering myself a
volunteer on the Exploring Expedition; of taking a ramble of years,
no matter in what direction, and coming back on the other side of the
world. Then, should the colonists of Blithedale have established
their enterprise on a permanent basis, I might fling aside my pilgrim
staff and dusty shoon, and rest as peacefully here as elsewhere. Or,
in case Hollingsworth should occupy the ground with his School of
Reform, as he now purposed, I might plead earthly guilt enough, by
that time, to give me what I was inclined to think the only
trustworthy hold on his affections. Meanwhile, before deciding on
any ultimate plan, I determined to remove myself to a little distance,
and take an exterior view of what we had all been about.


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