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Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 1804-1864

"The Blithedale Romance"

Not, you will
understand, that I condemn those who give themselves up to it more
entirely than I, for myself, should deem it wise to do."
It irritated me, this self-complacent, condescending, qualified
approval and criticism of a system to which many individuals--perhaps
as highly endowed as our gorgeous Zenobia--had contributed their all
of earthly endeavor, and their loftiest aspirations. I determined to
make proof if there were any spell that would exorcise her out of the
part which she seemed to be acting. She should be compelled to give
me a glimpse of something true; some nature, some passion, no matter
whether right or wrong, provided it were real.
"Your allusion to that class of circumscribed characters who can live
only in one mode of life," remarked I coolly, "reminds me of our poor
friend Hollingsworth. Possibly he was in your thoughts when you
spoke thus. Poor fellow! It is a pity that, by the fault of a
narrow education, he should have so completely immolated himself to
that one idea of his, especially as the slightest modicum of
common-sense would teach him its utter impracticability. Now that I
have returned into the world, and can look at his project from a
distance, it requires quite all my real regard for this respectable
and well-intentioned man to prevent me laughing at him,--as I find
society at large does."
Zenobia's eyes darted lightning, her cheeks flushed, the vividness of
her expression was like the effect of a powerful light flaming up
suddenly within her.


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