A Quote by Nathaniel Hawthorne

The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb. — © Nathaniel Hawthorne
The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.
My mother's family is Christian: her father was a Baptist lay preacher, and her brother, in a leap of Anglican upward mobility, became a vicar in the Church of Wales. But my mother converted to Islam on marrying my father. She was not obliged to; Muslim men are free to marry ahl al-kitab, or people of the Book - among them, Jews and Christians.
Ready-to-Halt, Poor Fearing, and thou, Mrs. Despondency, and Much-afraid, go often there [the empty tomb]; let it be your favorite haunt. There build a tabernacle, there abide. And often say to your heart, when you are in distress and sorrow, Come, see the place where the Lord lay.
Without religion, man is an atheist, woman is a monster. As daughter, sister, wife and mother, she holds in her hands, under God, the destinies of humanity. In the hours of gloom and sorrow we look to her for sympathy and comfort. Where shall she find strength for trial, comfort for sorrow, save in that gospel which has given a new meaning to the name of "mother," since it rested on the lips of the child Jesus?
The earth, that is nature's mother, is her tomb.
Mr Thornton would rather have heard that she was suffering the natural sorrow. In the first place, there was selfishness enough in him to have taken pleasure in the idea that his great love might come in to comfort and console her; much the same kind of strange passionate pleasure which comes stinging through a mother's heart, when her drooping infant nestles close to her, and is dependent upon her for everything.
What is Music? How do you define it? Music is a calm moonlit night, the rustle of leaves in Summer. Music is the far off peal of bells at dusk! Music comes straight from the heart and talks only to the heart: it is Love! Music is the Sister of Poetry and her Mother is sorrow!
I am the mother that bore you, and your sorrow is my agony; and if you don't hate her, i do' Then, mother, you make me love her more. She is unjustly treated by you, and I must make the balance even.
Catholicism is the tomb of intelligence, of thought, of brain; Protestantism, the tomb of conscience, of feeling, of heart.
She did not want to talk of her sorrow, but with that sorrow in her heart she could not talk of outside matters.
My mother converted, my mom converted to Judaism.
Men often take their imagination for their heart; and they believe they are converted as soon as they think of being converted.
But will I always love her? Does my love for her reside in my head or my heart? The scientist in her believed that emotion resulted from complex limbic brain circuitry that was for her, at this very moment, trapped in the trenches of a battle in which there would be no survivors. The mother in her believed that the love she hadd for her daughter was safe from the mayhem in her mind, because it lived in her heart.
The proud, the cold untroubled heart of stone, that never mused on sorrow but its own.
What is a godly mother? A godly mother is one who loves the Lord her God with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength and then passionately, consistently, and unrelentingly teaches her child to do the same.
Her own misery filled her heart—there was no room in it for other people's sorrow.
A mother's love — how sweet the name! What is a mother's love? — A noble, pure and tender flame, Enkindled from above, To bless a heart of earthly mould; The warmest love that can grow cold; This is a mother's love.
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